#i think Logan is like next level

[thedevilsrain]

am i nuts. i cannot understand this opinion at all

[oconist]

unpopular opinion but i do get what williams is trying to do and i'm not really mad? like, ofc i feel bad that they're not giving sargeant a full second season after pulling him early, but i don't think they are ruining franco's career. he gets to drive an f1 car for half a season and then go back to f2 to gain more experience because he was never going to get an f1 seat next year, let's be fr, and sargeant was not going to either even if he scored points.

they're using the driver academy as a driver academy is intended, as a path to get to f1 (rushing the rookies through tho). franco has almost no pressure (he's not fighting for a seat next year) and probably only has to try his best (and try to score points) and then go back to f2 and prove himself there. i don't think james vowles intends for franco to be the second coming of christ, but if having sargeant is not working for the team, why drag it more races when they could try to see how franco does in f1? not saying that it isn't ruthless, but the drivers in the williams driver academy are actually driving in f1, which is more than some others academies can say.

[soysaucevictim]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Intrulogical (QPP), Dukexiety (romantic/QPP), Analogical (QPP), Intruloxiety (QPP) Characters: Remus centric. Logan and Virgil supporting.

Genres: Slice of Life, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Vent Fic (sort of)

Additional Tags: Blood, Graphic Descriptions of Menstruation, PCOS, Chronic Illness, AFAB Anatomy, Brief Misgendering Language, Referenced Past Child Abuse, Remus Angst, Neurodivergent Remus, Nonbinary Remus, Trans Man Logan, Logan Is A Good Friend, Virgil is a Mess, Virgil is a Himbo, Virgil Is a Good Friend

Summary:

Remus has a not-quite-monthly visitor arrive. He’s going to make that everyone’s problem.

(Gym Rat AU. One-shot.)

---

What little ability Remus had to focus was shot, which was a little dangerous when he was at the workbench. His guts were feeling all knotted up and queasy. He wondered if it was something he ate, or neglected to eat.

He had a suspicion of what was happening, but he really didn’t want to deal with that mess. He was trying to coordinate some soldering wire and a very hot soldering iron. He just needed to seat this capacitor and-

STAB.

“FUCK!”

He clumsily dropped the iron, it clattered onto the motherboard he was working on and started to melt one of the PCI buses. He was more focused on bracing through a powerful wave of spasming coming from that useless bag of muscle in his guts, white-knuckling the bench and hovering above his chair, as it passed.

Logan was in earshot and rolled into his workspace, “Are you-?”

Remus glared at Logan.

As the wave passed, Remus tentatively sat back down, breathing through his teeth, “… Got any of Satan’s cotton fingers on you?”

“What are you- oh. You mean... menstrual products.”

Remus was back to glaring at Logan some more, “Specs. I love you. But-”

Just like that, Logan was in and out with his backpack and rifling through it. It was times like this that Remus envied Logan.

After a few home invasions from El Primo Rojo on the clock, Logan suggested that maybe Remus’s experiences weren’t “standard”. That they shouldn’t feel like someone gleefully and repeatedly shooting a rusty nail gun into his gut. His tendency for time blindness didn’t do him any favors, when his “monthly gift” took a scenic route to Guam half the time. That he shouldn’t be gushing like a stuck blood-doped pig, when it did.

It was a pain in the so-called “girl nuts” to figure out just how fucked his were.

At that point, Logan had learned to get the big guns out and asked, “Do you need any help?”

The aforementioned bus was smoking at that point, but Remus finally had the presence of mind enough to yank the iron’s plug. He winced and headed to the bathrooms and mumbled, “… probably.”

It was nice not having to explain to someone what it was like to deal with this curse. Not that it really stopped him sometimes. He got a few write-ups for that.

Never mind what was going on in the co-workers’ pants. If he was suffering, he was determined to make it everyone’s problem. Logan was just better able to deal with the gender feelings shit there, though.

-

Something Remus liked to do with Virgil is visiting his place, watching movies, and snuggling up. Well, more like, Remus wrapped himself around his Emo like the cephalopods he so loved.

Virgil was in for a shock when he started to invite Remus over more and let him stay, one day waking up to a crime scene and a severely anemic looking boyfriend.

It was clear public (and private) sex ed failed him. Virgil was thrown into a panic trying to find a non-existent wound on either of them. All while Remus was just curled up and groaning in pain in front of him.

Virgil went so far as to grope around their waist and back, provoking Remus to ask, “Feeling a little… frisky?”

“What? NO! I’m checking to see if someone broke in and stole a kidney or something!?”

Remus chuckled while that uterus of his spasmed, “Oh-ho, I wish...”

At that point, Virgil realized that, no, it was coming from Remus. And the only maniac here was the guy’s innards. Which then had Virgil panicking again, “Th-that’s a LOT of blood! Sh-should I call 911, o-or something!?”

Remus made an attempt to sit up, but then Iron Deficiency called and said Gravity was feeling pretty clingy that day. Remus might’ve started to feel a little delirious, “What happened to ‘a little bit of the red stuff doesn’t scare me’, last night?”

“That was “ Saw ”! And it was just a MOVIE. And with loads of the FAKE stuff! This-!?”

Remus’s laughter was punctuated by a few “ow”s. Remus knew he wasn’t his usual chatterbox self, “… can’t words, call-Lo.”

“Isn’t he at work right now?”

“Tell him… Code Mangenta.”

Virgil tilted his head, “Oooh-kay?”

Virgil barely knew Logan, but did as bidden. Remus laid there, listening to a one-sided conversation.

“Hey. Uh. Logan? It’s Remus…”

“I-I’m not sure man, he just said Code Mangenta.”

“Uh-huh. Uh huh. Oh. THAT’S WHAT A PERIOD IS!?”

Remus laughed again, but it came out more like a whimper.

“Shit, sorry. Do I need to take him to the hospital? Alright, I’ll ask him that...”

Virgil muted the phone and spoke to Remus, “Logan wanted a number from you?”

Virgil pulled the phone up to Remus, “ Nueve de - FUCK!”

Logan simply responded, “Ah. I’ll let the boss know you’re not coming in for probably… a week.”

Virgil’s one-sided conversation continued, “Can you text me all of that? Yeah, I’ll keep you posted. You’re a lifesaver.”

Virgil hung up, awkwardly found a non-biohazardous spot on the bed, and ran a hand through Remus’s hair. It was comforting and distracting. “Hey. I’m gonna get a few things that uh. Might help? Try not to die while I’m gone?”

Remus whined, “No promises, Virge-y.”

Virgil snorted, “Still-”

Remus slurred his words, thanks to dizziness, “Mmm… gonna poltergeist you if-I-do.”

Virgil glanced at the browning stain and back into Remus’s face, “… I don’t expect anything less. See you.”

-

As Remus lay there, waiting for Virgil to come back, he reflected a little bit.

He kind of hated how he only figured out how his mood got all fucky, in time with his broken biological clock. It foreshadowed his doom, and he missed the warnings every damn time. Then again, emotions were the bane of his existence. Words like angry and horny were close enough, a few days ago. But now that the dam burst, he was just angry, restless and tired . And in a world of hurt.

He wasn’t sure how long of a list of things Logan had sent Virgil, nor how long Virgil had disappeared. It didn’t help that he broke his alarm clock by angrily throwing it across the room – everything was getting a bit much. He couldn’t readily see where his phone was, just his luck losing it somewhere. It could be in Virgil’s unit, in his own car, or way back in his unit.

It didn’t help that he didn’t really want to move much. A lot of the times he found himself in this state, his mind asked him, “Is this going to be the Big One?”

He wondered if it was possible to exsanguinate yourself via your period. He mumbled, “That would suck.”

Remus’s thoughts wandered toward Virgil seeing his boyfriend’s corpse in his bed and- Remus groaned and shook his head. A spell of nausea stack overflowed his thought process and he had to drag himself to the bathroom. It felt like his uterus was ripping and tearing at his bowels, and not what he’d imagine to be “the fun way”.

While on the can for the third time in however long, he felt some relief hearing Virgil’s voice again, “You still alive in there, ‘Mus?”

Remus was still indisposed, barely able to project his voice, “I don’t know anymore, check my task manager and find out!”

“Whatever you’re doing, hold on a second. I brought a lot of stuff over.”

After several more minutes, Remus’s innards buffered enough and Virgil got the stuff inside his unit proper. Remus was impressed by just how many items the guy brought back.

“Okay. So. I got into your apartment to see how much of the things you had at your place already. Here-” Virgil pulled out a familiar, neon green octopus plushie and handed it off.

Remus grinned, he wanted to jolt up and bounce about it, but he was too damn woozy for that. “Cthulhu! Oh, how my loins have missed you!”

Remus unzipped the toy and reached inside.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, “Uh... are you going to fuck that thing or-?”

Remus cackled as he pulled out a bag of dry millet from inside and gave it to Virgil, “Pop that in the microwave for… a minute.”

Virgil was momentarily confused before smacking his face, muttering to himself, “Duh, that makes way more sense, alright now...”

As Virgil attended to that, Remus looked inside the bags. He saw some of his underwear, some heavy flow hygiene products, medication…

Beep!

“Hot! Hot! Hot!”, Virgil almost pulled the bag out with his bare hands before grabbing an oven mitt.

Remus chuckled some more, feeling all gooey over his boyfriend being the biggest whale penis ever. Virgil’s cheeks reddened, “L-look. It’s kind of hard to think straight when I’m freaking the fuck out over here!?”

“Aww, you really do care about me!”

Virgil flustered, handed the warm bag of seed to Remus. Remus snorted at the sight and the thought. As Remus got Cthuhu all ready and cozy, his Scare-Amore huffed, “Whatever.”

Remus hugged the plushie against his belly for dear life, feeling some of the tension and pain melt from its soft warmth. He zoned into that feeling, combing the thing's velvety tentacles with his fingers. System checks returned Normal again.

Virgil sighed, probably in relief, before bolting up again, “Shit, I need to go put some of that stuff in the freezer!”

Remus barely caught a glimpse of Virgil hurriedly putting several tubs of ice cream up. Chocolate anything sounded good, actually. Virgil muttered on about the rest of the things he ran out for and needed to clean up the mess Remus made – but Remus was just focused on the warm and gooey feelings swirling around in him.

-

Remus was glad to have someone in his corner who had the wonderful experience of having this kind of anatomy. It was an awkward story for another time when Remus found out that Logan was trans.

That said, it was obvious they had different experiences with the gender thing.

Logan was curt whenever discussing the menstruation topic, just enough to get any point he needed to get across before spacing out for a hot minute. Logan was a lifesaver about it, even though he mentioned that he was one of those lucky guys that saw the monthly visitor fuck off pretty much entirely while on T.

Logan was worse about the first time the subject came up. It was a little after Remus’s first month working there. Remus forgot to bring his products with him, which was normal. He was used to resorting to stacking a lot more waddage to stem those heavy currents. It had the secondary benefit of looking like a poor man’s packer, if it held up long enough.

That one went a little easier on him, but one of the next ones after that was a bad one. Despite him playing it off with his typical brand of terrific humor, even Logan noticed something was wrong, “You look ill.”

The stabbings made him pause between each word, “When don’t I?”

“Fair point. My understanding here is that you might need to see a doctor about that. All I can say is that… standard periods shouldn’t be quite so obviously painful, heavy, and irregular. I-I wish I could help more.”

“You haven’t been the first person to tell me that, Specs.”

“My point stands. But now I need to… excuse myself.”

Remus knew Logan would need that breather to himself. Remus had this problem for a few years at that point, but he kind of hated the idea of seeing a doctor.

His tired and anxious mind went back to the old demons telling him he definitely had cancer and he was going to die a miserable death. Cancer or something else just as terrible. He had to use several blocking measures to keep himself from doom-scrolling through WebMD. He’s done it on multiple software and firmware levels; on all his devices, routers, and modems. He tried to call his ISP multiple times, to block him on that level. He was denied, predictably enough.

Annoyed, he recalled Logan saying, “They don’t want to cause a catastrophic failure on their side. They have to serve other people too.”

-

While Logan had some shared lived experiences, Virgil was a lot more openly fretful around Remus’s cycles. Especially after that first time in his apartment.

Virgil was honestly a nervous wreck about it, which only made that little warm feeling Remus got from the Emo more intense. He probably got a little too used to how fucked up it could get for him.

Just before Remus was in high school, he experienced his first one, a little later than most “girls”.  It was relatively mild at first, but things got worse from there. He zoned out during sex ed and didn’t exactly have the social skills or cojones to ask if any of it was normal to any of his girl peers or the school nurse. Esteban didn’t really care and would tell Remus “she” was just making up more excuses. Roman was honestly clueless, but he tried.

Finding a connection with Logan and then Virgil was more than a little nice.

After a few times on the bloody rodeo, Remus had one of his worst ones. It was a bit of a haze to recall some details, apparently his iron levels were critical and he lost a fuck ton of blood. His heart was racing, he felt clammy to the touch, and delirious from it.

Worst of all, he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. He wondered if he was having a panic attack, but instead of being amped up, he was overwhelmingly tired. He woke up to Virgil frantically shaking him out of some layers of stupor.

“Oh fuck, Remus. Wake up, you gotta wake up!”

The way Virgil’s voice trembled peeled another few layers of stupor, but Remus only managed a confused “Wuh?”

“This is- you are- I can’t-!”

Remus slurred a bit, “Use your wooords, Virgie.”

“I-I’m gonna to call for help. This is just- fucked up!”

Remus was back to listening to a conversation about him, but Virgil put the other side on speaker.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend lost a lot of blood and-”

“Is he injured?”

“I-I guess? I don’t know! He’s cold and-”

“Was there an accident or-?”

“N-no, I mean- no one did this to him. He just-”

“Okay, ma’am, we’re sending some people over to help. Are you okay to stay on the line?”

Remus snickered at the address, Virgil had more to worry about than that.

“I-I guess.”

“Can you tell me your names?”

Virgil calmed down barely as the call continued and Remus writhed about – exhausted and in pain. It felt like an eternity until the EMTs came over. One of them was preparing a stretcher outside. The other took to assessing Remus’s vitals and asked them more questions as they went.

“So, Remus. Do you know where you are?”

“An adorable raccoon’s warren.”, he weakly chuckled.

The responder from outside moved to fill out their report and blinked a moment.

Virgil clarified, “… he means me.”

“Do you know what today is?”

“Hump Day?”

Virgil fidgeted, “He’s always been bad about dates…”

“Noted. Now, Remus, name the first president of the United States.”

“Some slave owning asshole with bad teeth. I think he died like this…?”

Virgil shrugged, “I- uh, don’t think that Rushmore guy was trans.”

The responder attending to Remus didn’t acknowledge Washington getting roasted.

Remus whined a bit, “Tough… audience, eh?”

The responder relayed everything back to his dispatcher and spoke to Remus again, “Can you walk?”

Remus’s muscles were too noodle-y from fatigue to right himself, let alone stand. “Not happening.”

“Alright, we’ll carry you out to the stretcher. Jim, over here?”

It didn’t look the most graceful or particularly gentle, but they were pretty careful. Tim supported Remus’ torso and Jim took up his legs. Remus just wanted to take a nap, once he rested on the stretcher.

-

Remus lost a good chunk of time from there.

The next thing he remembered was being in a hospital bed with IVs in him. He was feeling a bit more cognizant, yet very, very off.

He yelled at the nearest nurse to him, “W-where’s Virgil? Can I see him?!”

“We’re still trying to get you more stable, pushing some fluids mostly. Virgil is in the waiting area, but he told us some of your history. This is a recurring problem for you, yes?”

“System records indicate that is correct.”

The nurse blinked before continuing, “Do you have any experience using birth control?”

“No? The idea of carrying a kid kinda wigs me out… so uh…”

“When taken as prescribed, the pill has a very high effectiveness in preventing that.”

Despite his sense of humor, he admitted, “I… don’t exactly have plans to be sexually active anyways.”

“Alright, hon. The pill isn’t only good for preventing pregnancy. We’re going to give you some hormonal birth control to manage your bleeding for now. And some iron supplements, your levels came in very low there.”

Remus hated feeling small and stupid, “Don’t call me that… please.”

“Apologies, we don’t have your full history. You’re… nonbinary?”

It was the simplest language for Remus’s weird gender feelings. “Yeah.”

“Are you on HRT?”

He kind of wanted to be, but, “… no.”

“Would you be comfortable being referred to a gynecologist?”

Remus shivered, unsure if it was the blood loss or the hospital being too cold or something else, “D-do I have to?”

“We don’t recommend you rejecting the option, but we can’t force you.”

Some of the liquid coolant started leaking out of Remus’s eyes. Having seen how stricken Virgil was earlier finally hit him, “I... don’t want to put my boyfriend through this again. What’s wrong with me?”

The nurse took a breath, “There are a few possibilities that come to mind, a very common one is something called polycystic ovarian syndrome. We’re waiting for more of your bloodwork to come back to us. But, some specialists would have to assess you for that and give you more treatment options than I can say at this moment.”

He wasn’t sure about having someone rooting around in there or the potential bad news the exams could bring, “Can I think about that some more?”

“Of course. Right now, we’re just going to focus on getting you well enough for discharge.”

-

The ICU doctor managing his care was not a specialist, Remus was still on the fence on having that referral done.

The doctor talked to him about the lab work, “Well, we have one point toward a potential PCOS diagnosis here.”

“What?”

“You seem to have abnormally high values for testosterone and other androgens.”

Remus blinked, “Wait, what? Really?!”

“Yes, that’s one of the criteria.”

Remus found himself weirdly excited about that part, “S-so could that be why I started growing a mustache when I was in high school?”

“I understand how facial hair can be distressing for some.”

Remus cackled for the first time since he woke up nearly in hemorrhagic shock a couple days ago, “Distressed?! I’m trans, as all fuck, man! I thought it was really cool, even if the other kids bugged me about that a lot. Don’t worry about it. I took care of them. If you know what I mean?”

The doctor looked at him with a strange expression, “If other tests confirm this diagnosis, do you realize it could mean fertility issues?”

“Even better!”

“… you’re taking this better than a lot of patients I’ve worked with.”

“Well, the bleeding and the pain sucks all the ass. But, you just mighta convinced me to take that referral.”

Really, Logan and Virgil planted that seed in his head first. But this information could have explained so much of the shit he just put up with for the past several years .

He just hoped he wasn’t going to be treated like a girl or some weird shit like that.

Or that it could get in the way of some of the things he really wanted to go forward on, in talking about transition stuff with Logan.

Or that it turned out to be something worse, or better than this PCOS thing.

[coweye]

The Honda Odyssey

Logan Howlett x Reader | smut | 6k words Summary: The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

I got carried away. I just love Wolvie so much. I'm so happy Logan is getting the adoration he deserves. Long live the Wolverine renaissance.

Warning: smut, p in v, ass play, foul language.

If you had to pinpoint a moment when your life became the shit show it had steadily developed into, you’d say it was the moment you auditioned for X-Force.

In your tenure as besties with Wade Wilson, it's fair to say things hadn’t gone smoothly. The man was a conduit to all things fucked up, but you adored his loose morals and quick mouth. The idiot in red had weaselled his way into your heart and became something of a brother to you and more recently a roommate.

Now, if you’d have told your younger self you’d be in your late twenty’s sharing an apartment with a burn victim who regularly staples a toupee to his fucking head and a coke-head, blind, old African American woman, you’d have laughed in their fucking face.

So, you’d like to think that as these things go you are pretty damn well adjusted but traversing the multiverse was a bit of a stretch, even for you.

One moment you’re at Wade’s surprise party, the next your ass has been zapped to the TVA and you’ve been given a sacred mission; to accompany Marvel Jesus (Wade) and protect the sacred timeline.

Naturally you’re fucking mind blown, you’re a low-level mutant, fuck, you couldn’t even join the X-Men.  Your particular set of skills were a dime a dozen and your flagrant disregard of rules had made you a ‘poor candidate’.

No, the mutant powers you had been graced with weren’t extraordinary by any means. You were basically an off-brand Captain America, just without the gorgeous cheekbones, patriotism and righteous need to do good.

In layman terms, you are strong as shit and have an accelerated healing factor. Not quite the same level as Wade’s mind you. You have, give or take, an inconvenient five-minute turnaround on the more fatally debilitating wounds.

To say you were unqualified was an understatement and to say you were reluctant was a simple fact. A fact you repeated, loudly to anyone that would listen as you were bathed in rich black leather.

“I think maybe you meant to grab negasonic teenage whatchacallit… she’s great, super powerful!” You continue. “Did you mean to get Domino or Colossus or maybe one of the X-Men? “

“No Miss Y/L/N. We have not got the wrong person for the job.” The man you later find out is called Paradox, calls out as you re-enter the operation headquarters. “Mr Wilson requested your presence; he wanted your assistance on his mission.”

“Y/N/N… ten out of ten, baby girl, I one hundred percent would bang. I’m talking raw dog, Barry White on a rug, let’s go all fuckin’ night.”  Wade hollers in his own brand-new suit and even you must admit, you look fucking amazing. “Sweet angel, we’ve just gotta’ come up with a superhero name for you!”

You are enrobed in rich thick black and teal leather, your first ever hero suit and it’s a fucking good one. It doesn’t cling, but instead pulls you in securing your flesh and extenuating curves, ones you hadn’t entirely realised you had. The bottom half your face is concealed with a mask, carefully crafted to follow the contours of your nose and cheekbones.

You’d barely recognised the mysterious figure in the mirror.

“Right?! Tailor was pretty handsy though!”

“Oh yeah, ha! - that man is indeed a predator.” Wade says with a chuckle and a fond sigh.

It shames to you to say but that’s when you stopped fighting this whole thing. You looked the part of a hero; you thought that maybe the TVA knew what they were doing. That they had seen something in you and knew that you had a good heart under all the darkness that lingered on the surface.

Wrong.

You were just a demand Wade had made. He wanted his number one disciple at his side whilst he carried out his sacred mission. You were part of an attempt at appeasing him whilst they destroyed your timeline.

Little more than a pawn to be used whilst they manipulated him into a false sense of security.

Thus, you were thrown into a series of events far beyond your control when Wade being Wade decided you were hunting down a Wolverine to stabilise the timeline, only to be once again fucking zapped into some place they called the void by that little English shitbird named Paradox. It’s entirely accurate to say that you were a little less sturdy than your compadres.

Unfortunately for you, the fall from such a height into the void was fatal. When you finally awake in the desolate wasteland to the sounds of blades clashing it is disorientating to say the least.

Forcing yourself to your feet you lower your mask and gasp in the sweet strangely stale oxygen as you stretch out your newly healed spine with a groan. It was impossible to tell how long you were out as you take in the scene before you; Wade and the Wolverine are engaged in a heated battle. From the looks of it, Logan is winning this fight despite being the human equivalent of a knife block with Wade’s katanas protruding from his chest.

For a moment you pause, perhaps its head trauma that hasn’t healed (He’s fucking Deadpool, he can look after himself for two minutes) and appreciate his form, the Wolverine the two of you had kidnapped was gorgeous. Tch, as if there was any other kind.

Sure, you were biased you’d always been somewhat of a fangirl, but the Wolverine was objectively breath-taking.

You’d indulged in comics whilst growing up but when you found out he was real and looked the way he did, hell, Wolverine was your sexual awakening. He was the first man to make you feel that tingle in your lower stomach. Yes, you may have been thirteen years old, a ball of puppy fat and social anxiety but you’d been waiting for him ever since. 

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Wade loses baby knife in Logan’s shoulder blade, finally you spring into action. In good time as well as you’re not sure if even Deadpool can survive decapitation.

In the singularly most stupid act of your life you throw yourself in front of your friend’s body. “Wait, Wait! Please!”  

Wade has paused behind you, you can feel him weighing up the situation, pausing for a moment to see what you’re going to pull out of the bag.

“The TVA they can fix it, whatever you did, whatever made you the worst Logan, they can fix it! – They have the power to end universes, but they also have the power to fix yours! Help us get back there and we can fix both of our worlds! I promise, they can fix it.” You plead, it’s not quite a lie exactly, more of an Educated Wish than anything.

Okay it is a lie, but you’re sure that the TVA can most likely, probably, maybe fix his world.

Logan’s eyes lock with yours in that moment you can see that he wants to kill you both and be done with it, but that hope won’t let him. You feel a smidgen of guilt for the deceit, but frankly you’ve done worse for less. Your world was on the line it wasn’t the time to pull your punches.

Fast forward four exhausting hours, two periods of unconsciousness and one flaying to find yourself sat opposite Wade gagging down cold spoonful’s of Spam in some dusty ass diner.

You were no better than a man as you watched the Wolverine.

Those arms, those thighs, the way he had beheaded Sabretooth without even breaking a fucking sweat. You wanted him to wrap those instruments of death he called hands around your throat and fuck you dirty until the sun came up.

It had been a long exhausting day and you had been soaking wet for most of it.

Shit, could he smell that? Does that count as sexual harassment? You’d have to ask Wade.

Logan, however, was utterly dismissive of your advances in the face of what was undoubtedly utterly horrific past trauma. Something you were trying to be understanding about, but self-pity in a man, it just turned you on. I said you had some surface layers of darkness.

Unable to help yourself you gaze at him as he opens a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You are utterly entranced, watching the thick chords in his throat bob as he takes a swig.

That tanned skin where his jaw ends and neck begins, slick with sweat and dirt. You’d love to sink your canines into the strip below his ear. He must feel your stare on him as he looks up and catches your eyes dark with lust already surveying his person.

It should embarrass you, that every time he peers your way, he catches you gaping at him like a lovesick puppy, but there’s something about Logan you can’t quite put your finger on. The man heats your blood like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, maybe it’s that torch you’ve carried for him since girlhood, maybe it’s the thick thighs you’d kill to ride – who can say for sure?

In what you assume is against his better judgement, he comes to perch on the booth beside you. His broad shoulders cast an imposing figure as he gets close enough that if you were to move your hand a couple of inches to the right, you’d finally be able to touch that yellow fabric that plagued your tween dreams.

You’re burning up at the thought of him, unable to stop yourself you part your legs slightly to ease some of the pressure. Logans nose twitches, his head swivels your way and his eyes catch your own.  

Welp - at least you have your answer about him smelling your arousal.

Deciding that you were most likely verging on sexual harassment charges you decided to focus back in on the task at hand, gagging once again at another spoonful of spam.

“Be a good girl and swallow, Y/N/N, you know the rules!” Wade jokes, your chortle was your only response. What could you say? He always hit your funny bone despite the ocean that was raging in your panties.

Logan stares at Wade for a long moment before turning to your way and addressing you for maybe only the fourth time today?

“What are you doing with this fucking clown? You his sidekick? Following him round to laugh at his stupid fucking jokes whilst he gets kids killed?”

“Why I have never.” Wade is faux outraged at his words, clutching his imaginary pearls as the Wolverine throws around accusations that aren’t entirely untrue.

The Wolverine’s expression remains stern as his eyes track your face. They seem to be evaluating your character and from the flare in his nose and crease in his brow you can guess he finds you lacking. You’re embarrassed to admit how much that deflates you, so you do what you do best; you deflect.

 “I could follow you around and laugh at your jokes instead, if you like?” When you speak your voice has a sultry edge to it and there’s no mistaking your intentions.

Logan seems to think on your proposition for a second or two, before he huffs grabs his rubbing alcohol and unopened can of Spam and heads over to sit at the bar.

“Holy hot ham and cheese on rye, Y/N, you fucking slut.” Wade berates you though his voice is as light as it’s always been as he boots your shin under the table. “Trying to your holes filled by Wolvie during a world saving mission, Marvel H Christ, stay on fucking task!”

You swear you hear Logan mutter a Jesus Christ from the bar.

Though as Wade continues irritating the hero hunched against bar, you can’t help the realisation that he didn’t say no.

��You’re uh… well regarded in our world.” Wade complements, being real doesn’t come easy to him. You appreciate the effort.

“Well, I’m not shit in mine.”

“I tried to join the X-Men because of you.” You speak up finally joining their conversation. Wolverine’s back goes rigid, but he doesn’t respond. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to continue or hoping you’ll stop. “You made a difference to this world, made me think I could do the same. I just never quite make the cut.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a response.

It seems your words have an effect as you catch him watching you more often. When Wade makes his jokes, he looks to you for validation of his withering looks.

You’re probably more distracted by this revelation than you should be when the three of you come across a real nasty variant of Colossus seeking out Wade for… you want to say… revenge?

The not-so-gentle-anymore-giant flips the Honda and tosses both Wade and Logan through the treeline as they advance on him as if they were little more than toys his mother had asked him to pick up.

One by one your bullets ricochet from his metal skin as he comes towards you. You aren’t built for this fight; you are completely and utterly outmatched.

All you’re doing at this point is buying yourself some time for your backup to pull themselves from the rubble, however during a particularly spirited cartwheel the metal oaf finally gets his hands on you. Colossus’ metal palm is cold on your throat, and you could swear you hear your neck snapping before you feel it.  

With a gasp you return to life to find a slightly dishevelled Logan standing above you. By the grace of god, his sleeves have been worn away in the fight, his arms, oh sweet lord, his arms are on full display.

“Thought you were a goner.” He offers you a hand when you simply stare mutely his way. Locking your fingers around his wrist he pulls you to your feet. You don’t release your hold on him and neither does he.

“Don’t throw the party just yet, eh?” You joke weakly, for a second you could swear there’s a slight raise of the corner of his mouth, imperceptible, if you didn’t know what you were looking for. In the past few hours you had become an expert on Wolverine’s face.  

Your mouth is dry as you take in his thick sweat laden biceps.

“Where’s Wade?” You query whilst rolling your aching neck as you haven’t heard his voice in a record thirty seconds, Logan suddenly remembers himself and drops your hand.

“’fraid Metal man took your clown, was pissed with him and can’t say I blame the guy.”

“Shit.” You sigh rubbing your temples as you kneel to pick up the dismembered arm of your best friend. “Well – fuck. That’ll take him a few hours at least to grow back – He’ll be so sad about his suit.”

You peel the fabric from the limb and tuck it under the breast plate of your own suit. Wade will want his glove back when it grows back.

“He say where he was taking him?”

“Oh yeah, that along with his plan for world domination...” Logan huffs as if your mere presence annoys him.

“Thought you didn’t like sarcasm.”

“I like sarcasm just fine, Bub. It’s you I don’t like.” You can’t help but smile his way at the comment made at your expense, his brows crease. “You’re a strange one.”

“Can you do your sniffy thing?”  Its impressive, you thought he’d reached the limit with his scathing looks towards Wade, yet he somehow manages to pull a deeper frown out the vault especially for you.

“Sniffy thing?” His words are spoken with such derision, it turns you on a little. You realise that perhaps you are in fact a deeply troubled individual.

“Oh, sorry.” You pretend to clear a frog in your throat. “Please, oh, please, beautiful, handsome Wolverine, please can you locate my bestest pal with your heightened sense of smell?” His face doesn’t break despite your hands clasped in front of your chin.

“You’re just as fucking annoying as that moron.” He huffs “Get in the fucking car, we’ll follow his trail.”

“You can smell him from the car?”

“The blood, Jesus Fucking Christ, there’s a trail of blood.”

“Ah.” Is all you reply as you find your seat in the passenger side and start your own one on one team up with Wolverine. Its not exactly the way you imagined it, but beggars certainly can’t be choosers.

After a few moments of sullen silence, you decide that there’s no time like the present to form a long-lasting bond.

“What’s your world like?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Okay... What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they can save your world? I bet its something boring as fuck, like team-“

“What did you just say?”

“I bet you’re gonna do something boring like-“

“No before that.”

“What’s the first thing you’re gonna’ do if they save your world?” You question, his sudden interest in your words takes you by surprise as he has been vacant from your conversation.

The breaks suddenly shriek as the car comes to a stop.

“What do you mean if?”

“I…”

“You said they could fix my world. Undo it all, is what you fucking said.”

“I mean I think they can!”

“You fucking liar.” The edge to The Wolverine’s voice is terrifying. The realisation trickles down your spine, Logan has been nice to you all this time, you’re finally meeting The Wolverine.

“I didn’t lie!” For some reason you’re ashamed of your deceit, you’ve murdered countless people and still, you’ve felt less remorse. Logan’s eyes pin you in your seat as disgust clouds his face. It hurts more than you can fathom. “Not exactly, I think they can fix your world! – I needed your help and if you killed Wade there was no hope for my universe!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your universe!” He spits your way; his hands are gripping the wheel in what seems like an effort to keep his cool.

“I know, but I do!” You cry back at him. “You know how to save the world, you’re the fucking Wolverine! I know how to kill people, but this hero shit, this isn’t me!”

“Ha! No shit.” There is pure hate in the man’s eyes as he stares back at you.

“Please, you’re Logan. Whether you’re the worst one or not - You’re still better than me.”

“Get out of the fucking car.” The words come from between clenched teeth and are filled with warning.

“No – fuck you.”  Your rage breaks the banks to meet Logan’s. Perhaps it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fear for Wade but something within you snaps at his constant bad temper. “It was an educated guess and a fucking reasonable one at that, get the fuck over yourself you big bird wannabe geriatric fucker! “

He slams his palms on the steering wheel, his nose flares and his teeth clamp together.  “Fuck me? Fuck you – you sad pathetic excuse for a side-kick. No wonder the X-Men wouldn’t take you, and they’ll take fuckin’ anyone. You are a ridiculous, immature, moron who spends her days following around a fucking clown to avoid facing the reality that you are no one. I have never met a sadder, more attention starved asshole in my entire life. You were right about one thing, you’re no fucking hero.”

Its shameful the way your stomach drops, and your eyes involuntarily begin to tear. To hear your hero say the words you’ve thought about yourself whilst laying awake at night. It’s a knife to the gut.

“Nothing to fucking say, huh, Angel?” The use of Wade’s nickname for you is like sandpaper on your skin, it rubs you the wrong fucking way.

“I am going to hurt you now.” Your voice is barely a broken whisper.

“You’re going to hurt – “His faux chortle is cut short by a swift punch to his face. You’re worried you may have been overzealous with your swing when his nose begins bleeding. The Wolverine is stunned for only a moment before he grabs the back of your neck and proceeds with smashing your face into the dashboard and those concerns are quickly put to bed.

The old fucker is strong, but you don’t think he’ll kill you, yet another educated wish.

“Not so tough now…” He shouts as the radio channels change with your skull. Pulling a knife from your leg strap you embed it in his thigh and pull the lever to recline your seat whilst he’s distracted, luckily, you’re not there when he swings for retribution.

Though one of his fucking steak knives catches your upper arm slicing through the leather. Warm blood trickles down your arm, staining the beige interior of the poor Honda. 

Your legs are your strongest asset, so when he attempts to restrain you with the seatbelt, you are presented with your window of opportunity. You wrap them around his neck as you pivot your hips slamming the Wolverine headfirst into the metal of the door. Once, twice, three times - on the fourth he lands a fist to your gut, luckily, he has retracted his claws.

If he was willing to kill you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

You’re winded struggling to catch your breath from the gut punch, but you manage pull the knife from his thigh that is nestled between your legs and thrust it into his neck, you aim for the spot you’d fantasied about kissing before he’d torn your character apart piece by piece, now you just want to bathe in his fucking blood.

It was the pain that instantaneously made his claws extend. He’s quick to move them, though he slices through the sides of your suit as he buries them in the chair behind you. Your ribs are a bloodied mess though you don’t care, in a few hours they’ll be good as new.

Logan has seized the opportunity and has your arms pinned to your sides, his blood has cooled a little more than yours, he doesn’t seem to want to murder you over an argument.

Perhaps he’s more well-adjusted than yourself, that thought alone should concern you, except it just enrages you further.

“You stupid fuckin-“The Wolverine starts admonishing you, before you swing your head forward and headbutt him.

Yes.

You really do that.

You headbutt the man with the adamantium fucking skeleton– at full strength. Its sheer dumb luck you don’t crack your own skull in the process– maybe Logan was right, you are fucking dumb.

“Fucking fuck!” You cry grabbing your forehead and writhing. Noone wins with a headbutt, except Logan apparently.

“Fucking stop that.” Your writhing has pushed your core against his crotch, and he is already packing quite the heat at what feels like half-mast. He grabs your hips to stop your movement, but it only seems to push you closer. “Stop fucking moving.”

The constant arousal you’ve felt since meeting him returns in double time, Logan’s nostrils flare and his eyes darken. It’s debased and you’re ashamed that you want him, you haven’t stopped wanting him, despite the awful fucking words that left his mouth minutes ago.

“Like … a little pain Wolvie?”

Its relief you feel, you think, when instead of answering or punching you in the face, he closes the gap.

The Wolverine’s claws retract, and he grabs at your chin. Logan’s mouth utterly devours your own, your front tooth clashes with his own as you push yourself upwards, you pull your knife out of his neck, catching his grunt of pain on your tongue as you begin licking your way down his thick throat.

The vein you’d spotted hours ago is throbbing freshly healed, you sink your canines into the flesh and its as good as you’d fucking imagine. His groan is utterly beast-like as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.

The Wolverine’s throat tastes like salt and iron. Thick, tangy and warm on your tongue as you soothe the bite. It drives Logan wild, thrusting his hardened member against your warmth. One of his gloved hands rises to lock on the back of your neck to pull you into yet another earth-shattering kiss.  His sharp hot tongue slides against your own, exploring the expanses of your mouth like its his to claim.

You bite at him again then, your teeth catching his bottom lip sharply.  Logan groans into your mouth before you use every ounce of your enhanced strength to throw him backwards against the dashboard.

He is taken utterly by surprise as his head slams into the windscreen cracking the glass with a grunt. When he looks your way Logan’s eyes are blackened with desire, he is utterly wild.

Slowly as if afraid to make any sudden moves, you unzip your combat boots, your eyes never leaving his. One boot and then the next.

You thank the TVA’s tailor for making your suit a two piece as you shuffle backwards into the backseat, pushing the thick leather down your legs all whilst maintaining eye contact with the beast leaning against the dashboard.

“You sure you want this Darlin’?”

“Darlin’?” You question mockingly, your voice lowering to imitate his own, as you wantonly spread your legs, your bare leg resting next to the headrest. Only a pair of black cotton panties separate him from your most intimate parts and his eyes are locked on your clothed core. “a second ago it was ‘Pathetic Moron’ to you.”

Your head tilts in question as his eyes lock back on your own, you think perhaps for a moment something akin to regret passes over his face, but you’ve never been entirely comfortable with feelings, so you drop your hand into the waistband of your panties, you’ve barely circled your opening with your pointer finger before he’s on you.

“That’s my job, you fucking Moron.” He plunges two bare thick fingers into your heat. Gasping you throw your head back against the headrest, it’s a tight fit and its been a while but the slight burn eases some of the aching in your core.  “You’re fuckin’ soaking wet, you like it huh, bub? Making me bleed?”

Your grab his jaw, your nails digging into his flesh. “I’d like to bathe in-” He scissors his fingers finding that spot inside you and you let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “-Your fucking blood… you mean motherfucker.”

You’re an absolute goner when he starts rubbing your clit, after a day of foreplay your body seizes, and you grab at the nape of his neck trying to find something to anchor you down. But as fast as the build was you come tumbling down just as quickly, when he cruelly withdraws his hands.

“No! - Wha- what the fuck?!” You’re almost crying as your torn from the precipice.

Logan flips you over onto your stomach before you can complain any further, your face down on the filthy upholstery as he pulls your panties from your hips. You can’t see him from this angle, though you can feel his warm hands tracing the globes of your ass.

You force your knees further apart, pushing your bare soaking pussy against the tight bulge of his yellow suit. If you had enough of your facilities about you, you’d be embarrassed that you’re currently rubbing your cunt against The Wolverine like a bitch in heat after he’d chewed you out only minutes ago.

Logan’s hand dip between your thighs, his fingers swirl along your hole, dragging your wetness along to your aching clit.

“You think I’d make it that easy?” He asks as he continues the journey back and forth. On the second pass he dips his finger inside of you for a fraction of a second before resuming its path. “What do you want, darlin’?”

You weren’t going to beg, in fact you bit your tongue to stop the traitorous words from forming, this man had already made you abandon most of your self-respect, he wasn’t having this.

“Logan…” At your breathy words the man leans forward, pressing his fabric covered cock into your ass as he folds his body over yours. One hand comes down next to your shoulder, the other explore your tits as he rocks himself into your throbbing core. It’s the perfect storm as he nuzzles into your exposed throat but somehow you manage your words. “Fuck me or don’t, I’m not begging, bub.”

He exhales through his nose in what you guess is equal parts amusement and annoyance, but you’re far beyond caring. He places a bite on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder as his body pulls back. Momentarily his hands leave your hips to deal with his own pants. You hear the clank of his belt hitting the car floor moments before you feel the head of his cock, running along your folds.

The head of his cock is thick, and it feels hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick. All of a sudden Logan pushes forward and sheathes himself inside of you with a single thrust.

You try your best to hold in your incoherent moans but to little avail as he pulls back before slamming full force back into you. If you were a human woman, your pelvis would’ve shattered from the force of his hips against your ass, instead you gather your strength and push back, allowing him deeper. The both of you moan in unison at the depth he reaches.

You grab onto the foam of the seat, ripping through the fabric with your bare hands desperate for an anchor as Logan unforgivingly pounds into you from behind, once again he folds his body over yours, wrapping a palm around your clawed fingers.

“.” He grunts something incoherent into your ear as he picks up the pace, slamming into you repeatedly, slowly picking up his pace. Your core is positively aching as you throb around him, pulling him deeper within you.  If you were expecting any further explanation, you’re sorely disappointed.

The wolverine pulls back, gripping at your hips keeping you still as he resumes his powerful strokes.  Logan’s hand dips to your clit, rubbing quick circles sending you barrelling back towards your orgasm. As you begin to clench around him, he pulls your body upwards, his head brushing against the top of the car as he holds you against him his fingers never leaving your clit.

“Come on my cock, Angel.” Unable to stop yourself you clench around him, hearing him talk like that does something primal to you.

You fucking loved Logan’s mouth, you bet he ate pussy like a champion if he played the clit this fucking well.

You stopped fighting it and threw yourself from the cliff, shattering in his thick muscle veined arms as he held you up against him, his cock still viciously plundering your depths.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispers against your neck whispers peppering it with bites.

Logan gives you a few moments to come down from your high before he resumes his punishing pace, you think perhaps you’ve reached your limit of pleasure, that the threshold can’t possibly be topped until he whispers into your ear in that gruff voice.

“What was it Wilson said? Filling all your holes?” The Wolverine asks, his eyes meet yours over your shoulder meaningfully, asking permission as he offers you his thumb. You merely moan your approval and wantonly draw his finger into your mouth, soaking the pad in saliva.  

Logan yanks your head into a vicious kiss. It’s a messy one, filled to the brim with need. The hand not currently locked on your neck holding your face to his, travels down your back, through the valley of your bodies. The pad of his pinky runs appreciatively over the globe of your ass, before his hand dips into the crease.

Logan’s thumb runs teasingly against the tight ring of muscle, it’s a foreign experience which makes you startle slightly.

“Anyone ever fucked you here?” He asks as he bites down your neck, delicately pushing you forward until your head rests on the backseat. You shake your head as your eyes close, his cock is buried balls deep within you as he plays with your asshole.

When his thumb finally breaches your tight hole just past the nail, he begins his thrusts once more. His cock fills your pussy from behind and suddenly you feel so fucking full, Its far too much for you.

“Fuck… Logan.” You gasp almost on the verge of tears as pounds you into the back seat. It seems the ass play has gotten to him more than expected, as his pace has increases.

“Where?” He asks breathless from the exertion as he pulls his thumbs from your ass and takes a handful of the meat on your hips.

“Inside…. Please … Logan.” You practically beg though you’ll never admit it, his rhythm becomes stunted as his hips slam into the back of your thighs.

“Give me something tight to come in, Darlin’.” Moaning at his words you’re eager to obey as you reach your hand between your own legs and rub mercilessly at your clit. The unforgiving pounding, the grunting and the fingers currently bruising your hips and the burning of your now vacant ass send you sailing over the edge.

You clamp down on him like a vice, groaning unable to hold back your whimpers anymore as he finally bites your neck and pumps his seed deep inside you as far as it can go. Logan grunts like a beast as he pulses deep inside of you.

Logan collapses beside you. Dents in the interior of the van you don’t even remember making have appeared from where a stray elbow or knee has hit the metal in the throes of passion.

The Wolverine tucks his cock back in his suit. Ever the gentleman, he uses your black panties to wipe away the cum dripping from your thighs, you haven’t got the heart to tell him that when you’re commando redressed in your suit that you can still feel him dripping from you, your pussy uncomfortably slick against the leather.

After dressing, the two of you sit in contemplative silence. Neither one of you has the emotional complexity to discuss what happened and neither one of you will accept fault for your argument that led to it, so, silence reigns.

The tension is sliced in two as Logan leans forward and pushes an errant lock of hair behind your ear in an act so goddamn endearing, you melt. You still wouldn’t apologise for lying, because you didn’t lie but you can meet him a quarter of the way.

“I’m sorry for calling you geriatric.” You whisper catching his eyes, a small spark of humour leaps into them, you’ve seen more emotions from your hero in the past half an hour than you knew he was capable of.

“I shouldn’t have-“ Logan’s heartfelt apology is cut off by the lead of this goddamn story.

“Well, well, well.  Would you look at this, My best friends, Ha! I get fucking kidnapped, an arm ripped off and you’re nowhere to be found? I thought don’t worry Wade, they won’t leave you, Y/N/N will come around that corner any second."

Wade has appeared through the passenger side window; he looks a little worse for wear and has a child’s arm growing from his stump, its kind of gross to look at.

"What if Colossus had had his way with me? What then Y/N? I expect this from Wolvie, but not from you! No, no heroic rescue for old Deadpool. I have to save myself because you fuckers are too busy playing hide the adamantium bone!  Thanks for nothing guys. Now the car has old man sex stank to it, as if this hunk of shit Honda could get any worse!”

[thinkinonsense]

POSITIONS𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: oral (f receiving), fingering, bit of fluff, soft logan *mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: next mini-series will be inspired by the album positions by ariana grande. if you would like to be added to the tag list comment below. not sure how many parts yet but I hope you enjoy!

part two

home has always been a sore spot for logan. the mutant never had much of a place he could truly call home. always on the run, never somewhere long enough to enjoy it. now in his old age, he's been granted the life he always longed for.

"lo, come try this!" his little wife, calls to him in the kitchen.

the sight of you and your cute apron mixing ingredients could bring logan to his knees; and has on many occasions. how did a dangerous fucked up man like him end up with the sweetest girl in town? every day, you're in the kitchen learning new recipes while looking all dolled up for him.

the part that always gets logan hard is knowing you want to do this for him. you were smarter than anyone he'd ever met yet, you loved the simple domesticity of your life with logan. you knew when the two of you met that he craved an older lifestyle that you didn't mind adjusting to. logan thought that you were truly heaven-sent.

"think i finally got the recipe right." you held out a spoon for him. logan groaned at the taste, his hands resting on your hips, pressing you into the countertop slightly. "whatcha think?"

"think it might be the best frosting you've ever made," he mutters against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and jaw.

"that good?" you smile, licking the rest of the spoon clean.

logan watched with dark pupils, grinding himself against your ass with every little moan that slipped past your lips.

"might just be the second best thing you've let me taste," he admits, forehead falling into your neck to catch his breath.

"second?" you tease, turning around to face him. "what's the first, baby?"

you claimed you weren't a mutant but logan thought that was the only explanation for how quickly you managed to bring him to his knees. his big rough palms caress your thighs, squeezing whatever he can—whatever he wants— until he slips them under your pretty light green dress.

logan stares at eye level with your white lacy panties and the large wet stain forming in them. he's got you sprawled out on the countertop with both legs dangling off his broad shoulders, heels digging slightly into his shoulder blades. your dress and apron were bunched up at your stomach.

"isn't she pretty..." logan says to himself, hooking them to the side to get a better look at your exposed pussy. he blows cold air directly on you. a loud whine falls from your lips as you claw at the edges of the counter and attempt to wiggle your hips in the air.

"lo, please..." you beg, looking down at him as he slides the thin material down your legs and spreads you as far as he can.

"you've been such a good girl, sweetheart." logan praises, letting his thumb circle your button slowly in a way that leaves you needing more. "so obedient and versatile, aren't ya'? one minute you're cooking me dinner and the next you're begging to ride me."

you nod, lazily; trying to enjoy every movement he makes.

"think you deserve a reward." he hums before lapping up your wetness, swirling his tongue in downright sinful ways.

not only did you taste as sweet but the little noises that escaped you were even sweeter. a hand of yours laced itself in logan's grey hair, tugging him impossibly closer until his nose bumped your clit, making you sing like a bird. didn't help that logan let his most primal side show, moaning into you and making a complete mess of you.

"so needy, isn't that right, honey? just leakin' for attention." he says, talking to your pussy rather than to you directly while teasing a finger at your entrance. "makin' a mess all over me."

logan pulls back to spit on your pussy; sending your head flying back against the countertop.

"fuck..." you moan, left hand groping your own tit. "feels sooo good, lo.."

logan catches the light off of your wedding band while you squeeze yourself. this kickstarted something deep inside of him. even in the filthiest of moments between the two of you, you managed to fill his heart with love. his mouth returns, drinking you up like water. you flooded all of logan's senses; he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, smell how badly you needed him, and taste how he made you feel.

"taste like fuckin' candy," he growls, adding another finger to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you over and over again.

"please..." you purr, looking down into his almost black eyes. "so close.."

logan could feel you clenching around his fingers; practically suffocating them. his moans vibrating your core didn't help slow down your climax either. all of it crashing into you at once.

"there's my pretty girl," he smirks, still fingering you through your orgasm. at this point, you didn't care what part of you he was talking to anymore; all you wanted to do was kiss him.

"need you, logan." you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt until he's face to face with you.

logan assumes that you want him to fuck you; undoing his belt as quickly as possible until you stop him.

"gimme kiss."

there you were with your dirty apron, wild hair, and pouty lips begging for a kiss. who was logan to deny you such a request? his soaked beard scratched against you with passion as his tongue entered your mouth. his big hands cradle your face delicately.

logan wasn't a good man by the textbook definition but he'll be damned if he didn't treat you as good as you deserved.

[d1stalker]

The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route. 

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear. 

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly. 

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind. 

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute. 

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck? 

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of? 

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back. 

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it. 

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice. 

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye. 

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you. 

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness. 

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made. 

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive. 

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found. 

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that. 

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

----

pls comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the series taglist!

[astonmartingf]

YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT! ; F1 GRID

f1 grid x driver!reader . . . gen z f1 driver ranks previous crushes in f1 in a new tiktok video that sends fans in a coma /real

amgf well well well, guess who's back (hopefully) uhm i'm enrolled and officially an intern 😀👍 we love to see that, i made this before hungary i think? but yeah, i have too many drafts and no will to write, i'm blaming the new season in wild rift 😋 and because i've been busy with the internship thingy... a lot of seminars and preparations to do sooooo i hope you enjoy this like always

yourusername uploaded a new video

. . . view 736,937 comments

user73 hello? came running from twt, everyone talking about this

user62 i thought people were making a big deal on twt like usual but this is actual next levels of insane

user32 yn was bored with summer break and decided to break the internet and possibly the team's pr manager

user50 i relate because i too am not immune to blond hair and blued eyed men...

landonorris i think you forgot to message one more driver on the grid...

→ yourusername you're right @/yukitsunoda0511 i had a crush on you before 😌☝️

→ landonorris i meant a british driver on the grid...

→ yourusername alex is already there???

→ landonorris a mclaren driver perhaps.....

→ yourusername oh my gosh you reminded me!!!! i definitely had a really tiny crush on mclaren @/carlossainz 😋🫶

→ yourusername look lando i specifically said in the second slide that if you're not there then i probably hated you, people said you have poor reading comprehension, didn't think it'd be true 🫤

user38 cleared lando fr!!!!!!

user93 no charles leclerc, max verstappen, daniel ricciardo? fraud 🤥

→ user05 wtf not everyone likes them????

→ user17 y'all it's not that deep, this is yn's crush ranking why are y'all projecting////

georgerussell catching strays on a post about you having a crush on alex before????

→ yourusername oh well... i say it the way i see it and i see the way you look at alex 🙄🙏

logansargeant well well well

→ yourusername shut up logan 🙄

→ oscarpiastri no... but this is interesting ✍️ ain't it @/logansargeant?

→ yourusername shut your traps, i didn't give y'all exclusive content for you to run your mouth online

→ user48 honey i fear you're already running your mouth enough 🥹

user72 is no one taking about the mick one???? like??? i'm thinking about their f3 and f2 moments now and i see it

→ user49 OMG!NNN exactly! i get it now, the tension when they're together

jensonbutton reading your message at 2am asking for permission is not something i expected, my question though is... am i p1?

→ yourusername technically you're p-last atm but considering you're my first f1 crush i guess you're p1

→ jensonbutton i see... one rank higher than @/nicorosberg 👍

→ nicorosberg is this what catching strays mean @/yourusername?

→ yourusername yes 😭

dennis_hauger this is not what i said to you, i'm about to sue for defamation

→ yourusername you can't do that, i need a wag to bring for races

→ dennis_hauger i'm racing too?

→ yourusername and?

user85 mr dennis hauger??? did we miss three chapters here?

→ user69 no!!! they've been going at it since the beginning look up the 2022 f2 season

→ user03 there are various compilations in youtube and in yn's youtube channel !!!!

mickshumacher what is this? this is not what you sent me?

→ yourusername is it slander yn day? i'm out here airing my business and y'all say i'm a fraud istg

→ mickshumacher hahahahahaha but i agree with everything you said, i felt the same way

→ yourusername hello? when was this?

→ mickshumacher probably three, four years ago? same year with you, things didn't just work out

→ yourusername dang so you could've been my wag? ngl glad it's not you 😂🫵

→ mickshumacher i agree, who would want to be with you atp

→ yourusername slander and defamation?????

→ mickshumacher well who doesn't have a wag now? exactly, not me

yourusername wow i made this so we could have fun, but now everyone is just making fun of me, might as well delete this before the PR team sees this 😮‍💨

→ user52 noooooo please keep this up

→ user17 this is actually very slayful if you!!! don't ❌❌ let 🫵 the haters 🤡😈💩 stop 🛑✋ you

→ user28 this is actually what we want this summer, i'm begging 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

[selfcarecap]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[checkeredflagggs]

The Story of Us: Chapter 1

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 1 of 4/5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky

y/n_fanpage

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 10,293,833 others

y/n_fanpage: y/n_nation has been busy this past week with hints of what’s to come. Obviously midnight has something to do with her announcement! Thoughts?

view all comments

user1: NO. SHUT UP!!!

↳user2: NEW STUFF??? NEW MATERIAL??

↳user1: MOTHER IS BACKKK!!!

↳user2: I forgot that it’s y/n_nation that posts the announcements now 😭😭 I feel like I’ve missed so much stuff

↳user1: girl you better go back and check it out

charles_leclerc: cannot wait! Will definitely be on repeat in the garage

↳carlossainz55: yes!!

↳scuderiaferrari: already making room for it in the playlist!

↳user3: ok but this just makes sense to me!!

↳user4: right? Of course Carlos and Charles are y/n fans!

user5: another banger album on the way!

↳user6: album of the year!!

user7: 🤞🤞 fingers crossed it’s a love album

↳user8: oh my god same?

↳user7: like I love her other stuff so much but her love albums??? Next. Level.

↳user8: right?? Oh imagine being loved by someone who writes literal love songs for you

↳user7: not just love songs tho…Thee love songs!

alex_albon: new race day anthem loading!

↳logansargeant: 😂

↳alex_albon: I can’t be teammates with you if you’re not a y/n fan

↳logansargeant: biggest fan there is

↳alex_albon: well that’s not possible

↳lilymhe: no one is taking that title from us!

↳logansargeant: if you say so…

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

user9: tour tour tour tour!

↳user10: she’s hasn’t even released the album yet? Like Jesus…

y/n

liked by user, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, alex_albom, logansargeant, and 11,283,012 others

y/n: this is a no judgement zone, right? Right? Meet the newest members of the family — Snowball and Snowflake, Marshmallow, and Croissant!

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user11: I’m in love?

↳user12: you’re in love? I’m in love!!!

↳user13: they’re so cute!

maxverstappen1: You’re a cat mom too?

↳user14: still not over the thought that vroom vroom guys are in mothers comment section

logansargeant: good looking pups there!

charles_leclerc: it must be the season for new pets!

↳user15: ok but this seems desperate?

↳user16: oh I’m glad I’m not the only one to sense this

↳charles_leclerc: non! It is called shooting your shot!

↳user15: reads like desperation tbh

↳maxverstappen1: ha

↳charles_leclerc: I don’t think I like you anymore

↳user15: I’m not sure who you’re talking too or who should be more offended

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, estebanocon and 13,297,934 others

y/n: We lie awake in love and in fear, in turmoil and in tears. We stare at walls and drink until they speak back. We twist in our self-made cages and pray that we aren’t — right this minute — about to make some fateful life-altering mistake.

This is a collection of music written in the middle of the night, a journey through terrors and sweet dreams. The floors we pace and the demons we face. For all of us who have tossed and turned and decided to keep the lanterns lit and go searching — hoping that just maybe, when the clocks strike twelve…we’ll meet ourselves.

Midnights, the story of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout my life, is yours now. Meet me at midnight

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user16: what??? Like what??

user17: did she seriously just drop a surprise album on us?????

↳user18: miss ma’am mother i know that the album is called midnight but that does NOt mean you have to drop it at midnight! I have classes tomorrow!

maxverstappen1: vigilante shit is on repeat!

↳redbullracing: we can confirm this ✅

↳charles_leclerc: bejeweled is where it’s at actually

↳scuderiaferrari: excuse us while we grab our rhinestones

↳maxverstappen1: it’s ok to admit you’re wrong.

↳charles_leclerc: I’m glad you’re being truthful!

↳maxverstappen1: 😑😑😑

user19: ok but mastermind??? What kind of groundwork are you laying girl??

↳user20: right??? She’s been writing love songs for years and there’s still nothing about who they’re for

↳user21: for real!!! She’s come out about a lot of her songs — illicit affair about yourbff and back to December being about yoursister — but she’s Never! Said anything about who the love songs are about!

↳user19: I’m convinced she’s in a long term relationship and they’re all about her partner!

↳user20: user53 your help is needed rn!

↳user53: oh god not again

↳user19: when im right im gonna laugh in your face

↳user53: uh huh sure you will

alex_albon: do we have to pick a favorite?? Can’t we just play it on repeat in it’s entirety?

↳lilymhe: we absolutely will be doing that

↳logansargeant: really? The entirety??

↳alex_albon: for someone who tried to say you were her biggest fan, this is disappointing behavior

↳lilymhe: it really is

↳logansargeant: 🤷🏼‍♂️🤷🏼‍♂️

↳logansargeant: 🤣

oscarpiastri: my sisters have been screaming at me since it dropped

↳logansargeant: oops. Sorry about that man — know how that feels

↳hattiepiastri: we! need! a! signed! copy!

↳oscarpiastri: I thought you were just into kpop?

↳hattiepiastri: mom! nicolepiastri Oscar is being mean!

↳oscarpiastri: low blow.

↳hattiepiastri: 🤨🥺

↳oscarpiastri: …I’ll see what I can do

↳user19: 🧐🧐🧐

landonorris: I don’t know which one to choose as a favorite…

↳oscarpiastri: oh no

↳landonorris: which means all of them are!

↳oscarpiastri: does this mean…

↳carlossainz55: he will be singing the entire album at the top of his lungs, yes

↳danielricciardo: it won’t be good singing but it will be consistent

↳oscarpiastri: no

↳carlossainz55: yes

↳danielricciardo: yup

↳landonorris: go away muppets! Leave me and y/n and her album alone

↳oscarpiastri: 🤣🤣

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,294,278 others

logansargeant: always a great feeling being back home — even better with new friends

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user22: new puppy??? Winter break did Logan good this year!

alex_albon: you didn’t tell me you got a new dog!

↳logansargeant: haha it’s technically not mine but sorry!

↳alex_albon: you got a new dog and didn’t tell me!! Me!!

↳logansargeant: 😂��

↳lilymhe: he’s pacing right now, he’s in distress

↳logansargeant: sorry not sorry

↳logansargeant: would a visit with him help?

↳alex_albon: it is literally the least you could do

↳logansargeant: 😂 he’ll be at Miami

↳alex_albon: good!

user23: ummm?? Could I take the place of the puppy???

user24: I’m?? Jealous? Of a dog…

↳user25: big mood

↳used24: this is not where I predicted my life would be 10 years ago…

↳user25: no one ever does.

user19: am I gonna be attacked if I say something?

↳user53: potentially

↳user19: do you just have me on notifications??

↳user26: we alert them every time we see you post

↳user26: you scare us

↳user19: just because I’m always right doesn’t mean I’m scary

↳user53: ok let’s take it to dms.

↳user19: buckle up then buddy cause I’ve got it all printed out

↳user26: user53 is a real one 🫡 taking it for team

↳user19: 😡😡😡

↳user53: user19 come on. Explain your newest conspiracy

not_y/n: what a cutie! And he looks so well behaved

↳not_logan: why thank you!

↳not_oscar: gross guys. Keep it to yourselves please and thank you

↳not_y/n: why?? Want me to call you a good boy too??

↳not_logan: absolutely not!

↳not_oscar: eww 🤢 you’re solidly in the sister category and this is not game of thrones

↳not_y/n: 😜

↳not_y/n: speaking of — hotd season 1 binge before Miami?

↳not_logan: yes!

↳not_oscar: yes! — L

↳not_oscar: i guess that it’s a yes from us

y/n

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 16,294,923 others

y/n:

What keeps you up at night?

It’s a momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.

3am is different from midnight — the sky is ever darker and the thoughts even more haunting. Things that would keep you up at one don’t at the other.

Midnights: the 3am edition is yours now

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user27: why? Would? You? Do? This? To? Me?? I just barely got over midnights?? And now I have to listen to 3am??

oscarpiastri: again? Didn’t we just go through this 2 weeks ago?

↳landonorris: WOOOO!

↳oscarpiastri: oh no 😥

↳logansargeant: you could show some enthusiasm? You’ve definitely said she’s one of your favorite artists before

↳oscarpiastri: she is. Lando’s version of her? Not so much

↳landonorris: so rude!

↳carlossainz55: I think it might be a self defense mechanism

↳danielricciardo: gotta save those eardrums somehow

↳landonorris: 😡😡

danielricciardo: Paris baby!

↳user28: I knew you were a man of taste!

↳yukitsunoda0511: he’s really not. The Great War is superior

↳danielricciardo: you wish

user29: ok but would’ve, could’ve, should’ve??

↳lilymhe: karma is still the superior song

↳alex_albon: bigger than the whole sky? Did you miss that song?

↳lilymhe: we’re breaking up. I can’t be with someone who’s top song isn’t karma

↳user29: sorry but you’re both wrong 🤷🏼‍♂️

user19: Paris???? Are you kidding me!??!? And The Great War?!??

↳user53: I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath

↳user19: I told you!

↳user53: yes you did. And, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’m starting to believe you

↳user30: who are you and what happened to user53?

↳user53: I don’t know man. I don’t know

↳user53: however user19 might be on to something here…

↳user19: MIGHT?!?

↳user19: just you wait!

y/n_nation

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 19,294,923 others

y/n_nation: pack your backs and get your tickets! Coming to a city near you, the Eras Tour is a journey through y/n’s decade long music career!

Starting in Miami, Opening Night is Monday, May 6…more

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user30: YES!!!

↳user31: omg omg omg omg!!!!

danielricciardo: already planning on it!

↳maxverstappen1: so lucky that opening day is immediately after the Miami GP!

↳danielricciardo: exactly! It’ll be nice to spend a few extra days in Florida!

↳user19: yes so lucky…

oscarpiastri: on the one hand I think my sisters would kill me if we didn’t go for opening night…on the other hand I don’t know if I can do a live show with Lando…

↳logansargeant: maybe you’ll get lucky and have separate seating?

↳oscarpiastri: one could only hope…

↳landonorris: you frickin muppets

↳hattiepiastri: seriously???

↳oscarpiastri: will work on it

↳hattiepiastri: yes!!

alex_albon: suddenly i feel like the garages will have a lot of extra guests…

↳lilymhe: what do you mean? I always planned on going to Miami!

↳alex_albon: does always mean 20 minutes?

↳carmenmmundt: it does actually!

↳georgerussell63: since when?

↳francisca.cgomes: for about the last 20 minutes!

↳pierregasly: hint received

↳francisca.cgomes: 🤭

user32: ok i need to be at opening night now…

↳user33: right? The chance to see all these drivers in person?

↳user32: AND to see y/n perform live?!? Dream come true

charles_leclerc: I am ready to fight the Ticketmaster

↳alexandrasaintmleux: yay!

↳user34: oh to have Charles leclerc fight Ticketmaster for you…

logansargeant

liked by not_y/n, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1,214,223 others

logansargeant: last minute dates before the season starts

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user35: who? What? Where? When?

↳user36: A GIRLFRIEND?!??!!? SINCE WHEN????

alex_albon: first you get a dog and don’t tell me and now you have a whole ass GIRLFRIEND AND DIDNT TELL ME???? Where is the team loyalty?

↳logansargeant: …we’ve been together longer then I’ve been your teammate?

↳user37: what?? HOW LONG?

↳alex_albon: exactly! HOW LONG???

↳logansargeant: just over 10 years now

↳alex_albon: you were a baby?

↳logansargeant: I was nearly 14?

↳alex_albon: a baby!!

oscarpiastri: tell her to answer her texts

↳logansargeant: she said she’s on a strict no phone policy

↳oscarpiastri: I can see her on her phone right now

↳logansargeant: ��oh it’s exclusively against Australians who mocked my cooking attempts”

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😑😑

↳oscarpiastri: whatever she made IT WAS NOT BANANA BREAD

↳logansargeant: “but you didn’t have to laugh at me!”

↳alex_albon: the Australian knows???

↳oscarpiastri: there are levels here albon. Gotta get on my level — childhood best friends

jensonbutton: you’ve never mentioned you had a girl, kid

↳logansargeant: ok but to be fair you’ve never asked?

↳jensonbutton: and you’ve never introduced us?

↳logansargeant: she supports from a distance — she also travels a lot for work

↳jensonbutton: kid…

↳alex_albon: DOES ANYONE BUT THE AUSTRALIAN KNOW??

↳oscarpiastri: my family knows

↳alex_albon: Logan…

↳logansargeant:😂

user38: that Florida sun does something amazing for Logan!

↳user39: is it the sun or is it the girl??

↳logansargeant: it’s not the girl

↳logansargeant: it’s my girl

↳user39: I am literally swooning right now good lord

user19: user53! I told you

↳user53: …yeah ok

↳user40: user19 I need the timeline I need the proof I need the receipts

↳user19: I’ve got you!

Bluesky

f1

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 8,923,924 others

tagged: y/n, y/n_nation

f1: it’s time to be fearless! Miss Americana will be performing the National Anthem at the Miami GP the day before the start of her Eras tour!

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user41: oh my god!!! I get to see her twice???

↳user42: seriously??? I’m so jealous

↳user41: I don’t know which gods blessed me but I managed to get tickets to both!!

↳user42: you know I heard it’s good to sleep with your windows open…

maxverstappen1: y/n the Redbull Garage would gladly welcome you!

↳redbullracing: absolutely! You Belong With Us!

↳user43: …is the redbull admin playing wingman for max?

↳redbullracing: the grind never stops

↳maxverstappen1: thanks admin

↳user43: gotta respect that I guess

landonorris: I think papaya is more your color y/n!

↳user44: I think she might prefer a winner actually

↳user44: you know to match her 3 album of the year’s

↳landonorris: ok i let stand the bullying from my friends and teammates

↳landonorris: but im not gonna stand for it from you

williamsracing: i think we could have The Best Day with you and your fellow American y/n!

↳logansargeant: hey what?

↳alex_albon: that’s it? Gonna need more enthusiasm from the guy who “claims” he’s the biggest fan

↳lilymhe: yeah! Show off your American spirit

↳logansargeant: caw caw 🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅

↳y/n: stunning show

↳lilymhe: 🤯🤯

user49: did…did she just…

↳user50: respond to Logan Sargeant? Yeah

↳user49: ohmygod

scuderiaferrari: I do believe Red is your color y/n

↳charles_leclerc: we look best in Red here!

↳carlossainz55: and we have ice cream!

↳charles_leclerc: yes! Custom ice cream just for you

↳alexandrasaintmleux: and we’ll even have a puppy if you’d like a puppy play date!

↳charles_leclerc: yes leo is very well behaved

↳user51: the desperation stinks all up in here

user52: i am living for all the garages trying to get y/n to join them for the weekend

↳user54: my favorite part is the desperation coming from the drivers

↳user54: silly vroom vroom guys and gals thinking they could shoot their shot with y/n… liked by not_y/n

Private Messages

y/n_gossip

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y/n_gossip: breaking! Coming from unknown sources are apparently leaked photos from y/n’s private phone.

My questions are how was she hacked and who is the guy!

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Private Messages

Part 2

[mynameisjag]

Because I just remembered, as author, I have power to do whatever the hell I want in fanfiction. The only powers in the universe that can stop me is my terrible ADD and terrible sleeping habits.

It’s a sequel to ‘Mistaken for Wolverine's and Wade's possible kid.'

There was a possible feral child running around with claws and a smart mouth.

“We'll take him home, keep him in the bathroom for a little while so Laura can get used to his scent and then slowly introduce them to each other.”

“…they aren’t cats…”

“Right, weasel family, close enough.”

Logan rolled his eyes with grunt, the smell of crushed ice and iron filling his nose, they had been following the kids scent for awhile now, enough for a quick change out of uniform to throw on street clothes.

Wade had thrown on an over large sweater with the hoodie pulled up with a face mask and glasses, Logan himself was dressed in one of his flannels.

“We look like the Unibomber and the Bounty Paper mascot have decided to go on a date at the local market.”

They were close, the tracks had lead them to a more public place, a small outdoor fruit market, but there was no sign of white hair anywhere. Though that didn’t matter if the kid could go invisible.

They were close though…

“So what’s the bet that baby wolvie can change his appearance to fit in?”

“Hmm?”

Wade nudged their shoulders together as he gave a subtle nod over to the next stall, black hair, blue eyes, different clothes…but the smell remained the same…

“Oh, boy, whoever made this designer baby knew what they were doing, still has those sharp claws and cute little fangs you both share. Congratulations to us? What we naming him?”

“Wade.”

“Right, assuming gender, my apologies.”

The man actually snorted in brief amusement, getting what he knew was a wide grin even if it was covered up, he rolled his eyes as the usually red covered merc grabbed his bicep, “He could be a Void escapee, I don’t smell any other human smells on him, let’s stay up wind right now.”

Wade gave the arm he was attached to a small squeeze, “Led the way Mr. Paper Picker Upper.”

They moved slowly through the crowd, eyes on the kid but still keeping a distance incase he picked up the super senses trait.

Lightly clawed hands were picking up apples, sniffing them then placing them down, head would tilt and the ears would twitch, he was still listening for any kind of disturbance. Eyes would focus on a fruit, then dart to the side, still wary and still watching out.

“The face shape and features are the same…need better proof though.”

“Lucky you and the need for the plot to move forward, looks like someone has itchy knuckles and a case of peekaboo.”

Sure enough, one hand was rubbing at the knuckles were a slight sheen glinted in the sunlight before disappearing.

The kid was frowning down at his own hands, distracted enough to not notice Wade casually stroll up behind him, “Baby boy, is that you! You’ve been gone for two years! We thought you were dead!”

Logan sighed tiredly, accepting his fate as he watched his partner throw his arms around the child in a crushing hug, wailing dramatically how they would be so much better parents now, they would support his interest in professional knitting and how dare he leave with a note written in cursive.

Phones were out, people were clapping over the tearful reunion, the poor kid looked shocked to be manhandled over to him by Wade.

“It’s your Daddy, I know he is currently cosplaying a lumberjack, but he’s still the asshole we love.”

Logan could only shake his head, letting out a huff before staring down the kid, “Ready to have that chat?”

Bright blue eyes glared up at him on a level of unimpressed that only teens could reach, “I don’t know, are you ready to go save Goldilocks, I think you better go off and get lost in the woods looking for her.”

“Oh, he is just the Sassiness! He gets it from me, I swear! Just an absolute deee-light!"

[lemonsprite]

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 || 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 (𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: he’s so sorry!!

Word count:

Warnings: angst I suppose <\3 (but also comfort) and not beta read TT I have horrible grammar

A/N: needed to put a break in bc this bitch is too long!!!!!!!! I want Hugh Jackman on a primal level

Logan’s back was killing him. He was hunched over a barstool, currently nursing a Pilsner while drowning in self pity- not like he had much else to do at the moment.

“I’m cutting you off man, you look like shit.” Remarked the bartender, looking down at Logan with sickening pity. “Go home.”

“Don’t have one.” Logan bite back, his voice no louder than a grumble as he sulked. That was a lie. He had a home, with Charles, and Scott, and Ororo, and a hundred other mutants but all of that was a faraway thought for Logan. No, all he really cared for right now was how much he missed your warm bed. He missed his home, your home.

The bartender raised a disapproving eyebrow at Logan and he could tell when he wasn’t wanted.

Groggily and very drunk, Logan stood from the barstool, holding onto the counter of the bar for help as he made his way to the front door, the bright illuminated ‘open’ sign causing his eyes to squint and the already tell tale signs of a killer hangover tomorrow to kick in.

Outside was dead silent, even the crickets seemed afraid to chirp in the presence of Logan as he stumbled his way down the street to an old rain rusted payphone, covered in shitty aged graffiti.

The humid summer air stuck to Logan’s skin, and he slapped at his neck, attempting to kill a pesky mosquito as he fumbled for his wallet.

Logan’s leather wallet that was held together by a single string only contained two things.

One- a very very expired drivers license, and two- a crinkled old Polaroid of you, smiling happily five years ago when you and Logan first met. On the back, scribbled in almost illegible chicken scratch was a slew of numbers, numbers his shaking fingers began to dial on the old payphone.

Logan brought the receiver up into the ear, doing the old song and dance when it came to shitty pay phones like these before the robot operator instructed him to say his name into the phone.

“It’s Logan, sorry to bother Bub… I know it’s late.” He mumbled quietly into the receiver, playing anxiously with the long coiled line of the phone.

Patiently he waited for one second, then two before the stress relieving sound of a click could be heard from the other end.

“Is everything okay Logan?” You asked, your voice soft, half asleep, and full of worry.

Logan paused for a moment, thinking over his next words as best as his intoxicated mind could.

“Yeah… yeah there’s just a lot goin’ on right now and I dunno…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just needed to hear your voice…”

He leaned against the phone booth, the receiver tucked securely into his shoulder as he realized how utter pathetic he must’ve looked currently.

“Where are you? Do you need help?” You questioned, your voice writhe with anxiety and he could hear you throwing on your bath robe and slippers, grabbing your car keys and unlocking the front door.

Logan felt horrible for crawling to you, begging for help when he was the one to push you away in the first place but another, very drunk, selfish side of himself yearned to hold you in his arms and sleep in once more on your queen size mattress.

“Nah. I don’t need help.” Logan finally decided, his voice a mixture of gruff stoicism and… something else.

There was a small pause. A moment of reconsideration.

“I’m at the phone booth across the bar.” He admitted, voice low and slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll be there in five.” You reply sternly, the phone line going dead with a familiar disconnecting click.

Logan couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Even though he’d never admit it, some old still hopelessly in love part of him was happy to know you’d still be willing to drop everything at two AM and hunt him down at some dingy dive bar.

True to your word, within five minutes, Logan heard the noise of your old car approaching. The headlights illuminating the cement and causing Logan to squint. You pulled over, stopping a foot from the phone booth.

The cars window rolled down revealing you, your hair still tousled from sleep and your bathrobe barely clinging to your shoulders.

“Get in Lo’… you can spend the night at my place.” You frowned, pursing your lips as you gestured with your head for Logan to get into the passenger seat.

Logan’s usual stern expression melted away upon seeing you for the first time in what felt like forever. Your anxious expression matching his as he climbed into your car, feeling himself melt back into the seat like he’d never left.

“Lead the way bub.” He hummed coarsely, the seat creaking under his weight and his muscular body taking up a large portion of the cabin.

Now thoroughly sobered up, the drive home was filled with awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut into it like butter. The roads were dark and your eyes stay glued to the road almost as if you were ignoring Logan’s presence.

The cars headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the deserted streets as Logan tapped his fingers against the edge of the window, his heart tight with a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia.

Logan stole glances now and again at your face. Taking in the familiar lines etched into your skin and the way you pursed your lips when concentrating.

“Been awhile since I’ve been here huh?” He asked, attempting to break the awkward silence as his chair creaked in protest when he attempted to lean back.

“Missed you Lo’.” You said softly, almost quiet enough for Logan to not hear. “I think about you every day… wether your alive or dead… happy or injured and bloody…”

Logan bite his lip, taken aback by the sudden sincerity of your words, not expecting that much vulnerability from you. He glanced over, his eyes meeting yours before quickly returning to the dark pavement road.

A cold pang of guilt curled in his stomach as he swallowed.

“Bub…” he started, clearing his throat gruffly. “I… didn’t want you to worry about me… y-… you know I’m always fine…”

Logan stumbled through his words, finding it tough to even wrestled them out of his throat.

He could see you thinking over his words, biting at your lip as you gaze turned disapprovingly towards the road. You obviously disagreed with him but kept your words to yourself as the drive continued on.

Eventually your car pulled into the driveway of your small home. Pulling the keys from the ignition, the engine putter to a stop as you climbed out of your car, slamming the door shut in a way Logan could tell was venting your anger.

Logan followed, standing quietly outside the car and staring up at your house just now realizing how much he’d missed all this. The familiarity of it all.

His keen senses picked up the scent of your home. A mixture of you and old wood. Logan shove his hands in his pockets and looked up at you with a strange combination of trepidation and anticipation.

“Come in, I’ll get you something warm to drink.” You offer quietly, fidgeting with your key ring to unlock the front door.

Logan followed you inside, his steel toed boots thumping against the hardwood floor. He took in the sight of the place, the walls and shelves filled with small trinkets and photos.

His gaze lingered on a photo of the two of you. It was an old photo, taken back in the early days of your relationship and something tore at his insides that night coming back vividly to him.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you, his face a mixture of emotions he couldn’t bother to hide at the moment.

“Still like the simple stuff huh?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“I like that photo.” You respond simply with a shrug, moving to the kitchen to grab two mugs.

setting the kettle on the stove and filling it with water, you dig in a nearby pantry, pulling out two bags of camomile. Logan was touched you’d remebered it helped him sleep better at night.

“I’m renovating the guest room Lo’ so uh…” you paused nervously, leaning against the kitchen counter for better balance. “You could sleep on the couch or um… my bed if that’s okay with you… although if you remember the couch is uncomfortable at shit.”

Logan took in the slight anxious tremble of your voice and attempted a smile to ease your worries. “Are you kidding? I’ll never forget that couch and I have the back problems to prove it.”

You watched you silently for the moment before continuing quietly.

“I’ll take the bed.”

“Good choice.” You complimented with an awkward smile, grabbing the steaming kettle and filling both mugs. “Do you still like milk with yours?” You asked absentmindedly, digging around in the fridge of your kitchenette.

Logan nodded. “Yeah same way Bub.”

He leaned his back against the counter, his gaze still fixed on you. This domestic scene felt surreal- you preparing tea for him, the soft electric hum of the fridge, and the intimate simplicity of it all.

Memories of exact copies of this night came flooding back to him. Countless nights of late-night conversations and cups of tea.

Once finished, you pushed the perfectly steeped cup of tea towards Logan, his fingers brushing against yours before taking a sip and glancing at him from across the kitchen.

“I’m worried about you Lo’.” You admitted quietly, staring at him from over the rim of you cup.

Logan took a large swig of his drink, using it as an excuse to avoid looking at you for a moment. When he did, he met your eyes, the worry in your gaze mirroring his own.

“I know you are.” He grumbled, voice stoic. “But I can handle myself Bub.”

“If you can why call me at two am!?” You bite back, glancing at Logan as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

Logan sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. He knew you had a point. He knew he wouldn’t have called if everything was fine.

He took another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing his gruff throat.

“It’s just… been a tough couple of weeks.” Logan admitted, voice suddenly quiet as his fingers traced the handle of his mug. “Just needed to hear your voice is all I guess…”

You glance at the tiled floor, thinking for a moment before speaking up.

“Why did you leave me Logan…” you asked quietly, forcing Logan to address the one question he didn’t want to consider.

The question hit Logan like a ton of bricks, the familiar shame and guild washing over him like a cold wave.

He looked away, jaw clenching as he struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to bother you with all the issues that entailed loving a mutant. He didn’t- couldn’t hurt you.”

“It’s complicated.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze. “You’re better off without me, Bub.”

You frown at Logan, obviously taking offence to his words.

“Oh really?” You asked incredulously. “Am I better off tossing and turning every night worried that the next time I’d see you would be in a casket? Am I better off crying every night left wondering what I did wrong for you to leave me- to leave us?”

Tears began to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, too preoccupied to brush them away.

Logan flinched slightly as your words struck deep. He could see the pain carved into your face and the tracks of tears caused by him.

He placed his practically finished mug of tea behind him, the soft thud of the porcelain echoing through the small kitchen. He took a moved, closing the distance between you two as he looked down at you with a mixture of sadness and regret.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispered, taking a deep breath and fighting the lump in his throat. “It’s me bub, im the problem.”

You refused to look at Logan, your eyes glued to the floor.

“I didn’t want you to leave…” you admitted quietly. “…I miss you.”

Logan let out a deep sigh, his heart feeling heavier than his weary shoulders and each syllable that escaped your mouth feeling like a swift dagger to his conscience.

His voice barely above a whisper, Logan answered. “I know you didn’t want me to leave. And I miss you too. More than you know.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently, very gently touching your chin, turning you face towards him.

Logan’s heart ached as he saw the tears on your face, his calloused thumb trying gently to wipe them away, a slight tremble in his hand.

“Why are you crying over a knucklehead like me Bub?” He soothed, thumb tracing your jaw. “I’m not worth these tears.”

“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you Logan.” You admitted solemnly, leaning into Logan’s touch. “And… and you left me in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye… I thought you’d gotten hurt… o-or worse…”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you nuzzle into his calloused palm. The raw emotion in your voice slicing through all previous walls he’d constructed around his heart.

He closed his eyes for a moment of solace, his rough hand cradling your face.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said in a broken whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The words came out like a prayer, filled with longing, guilt, and a drive for forgiveness from the only person Logan ever thought really mattered.

A moment of silence passed, Logan’s apology sinking deep into the walls of the kitchen until you spoke up.

“Can you stay till next morning Lo’?” You asked, voice scratchy from crying and shouting. “I’ll make bacon the way you like it… all crunchy n’ shit…”

A small smile tugged at Logan’s lips despite the heaviness in his chest. The mental image of you cooking breakfast for him in the early hours of morning was more comforting than he’d care to admit.

“You remember the way I like it huh?” He askedC his heavy voice tinged with the slight hint of humor.

“Never forgot.” You replied, giving Logan a sad smile as you stepped away from his close proximity.

“Anyways… it… it’s been a long night we should get some rest…” you suggested, gesturing with you head to the bedroom down the hall, a place Logan was all too familiar with.

A wave of nostalgia hit Logan like a truck as he entered your bedroom. Memories of many sleepless nights filled with you in his arms were seared into his mind.

Hi eyes flicked around, taking in all the subtle changes since he’d last been here- the new pillows, the different floral bedsheets, but beneath it all it was still the same, it was still you, it was still home.

You sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off your slippers and removing your socks, tossing the clothes somewhere on to the other side of the room like you and Logan used to do every night before having fun.

Logan shrugged off his shirt, revealing his scarred tanned chest as he climbs underneath the sheets and duvet, settling in next to you, your back facing to him.

This routine was all too familiar to him.

Logan wanted to pull you closer, to hold you against him but he hesitated, not sure what your boundaries were at the moment. Logan yearned for your touch, even though he’d been the one to walk away.

“Can… can you hold me Logan…” you asked quietly, your voice resounding in the silent bedroom.

A wave of relief washed over Logan as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest, his nose burying into your hair inhaling the familiar scent of you.

“Yeah.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I can hold you.”

Logan could feel the tension leaving your shoulders as you melted into his touch causing him to hold you closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your tummy.

He’d forgotten how much he missed this, the simple pleasure of having your back to his chest, your warmth in his embrace.

Logan nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing deeply. “God I missed this.” He murmured, voice filled with regret and relief.

The room was dead silent, all except for the quiet ticking of a nearby wall clock.

“Can’t you stay Logan?” You asked into the silence of the room, your voice barely above a whisper. “We can continue where we left off… I still have all your clothes in my closet.”

Logan’s heart clenched in his chest, his head and heart at war within himself. The temptation was strong, painfully so. But the guilt, the knowledge of what could befall you made him hesitate.

“It’s not that simple bub.” His voice rough as he muttered quietly into your ear. Logan’s hand, however, betrayed him as I gently caressed your hip, calloused thumb tracing patterns into your skin.

“Logan I’ll be good.” You pleaded quietly, leaning into his touch. “I won’t do anything to make you leave me again I promise.”

Your raw emotion sliced through any remaining restraint Logan had. He could feel the guilt and love for you wrestling for dominance in his chest.

“You were never the problem you understand that don’t you?” He said, voice low and deep. “It’s me- not you- always me.”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin as he held you impossibly closer.

“You’re making it hard to resist Bub.”

Logan could feel all remaining defences crumbling as you turned in his grasp to face him, one of your hands cradling his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I love you Logan.” You whispered.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, voice breaking. “Never did.”

“Say it back.” You pleaded, leaning your head on to his chest as sleep threatened to take you. “I need to hear it.”

Logan’s chest tightened at your request, knowing he could never deny you, could never hold back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you. Still. Always.” He said, burying his face in your hair once more.

You hummed in contentment at his answer, happy to finally hear what you’d be needing for months. Comforted by the closeness of Logan, your eyes fluttered close and before he knew it your breathing had evened out to a slow steady rhythm and you were fast asleep, nestled in Logan’s arms.

Logan stayed awake for a while longer, content to listen to your slow breathing and quiet heartbeat. He held you close, glad to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve your love after all he’d put you through. Your words ‘I love you’ echoing in his mind like a burden but also simultaneously a comfort.

But Logan couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back again, to have you in his arms again, and the sense of peace that washed over him you laid together.

He knew the sun would rise soon enough, and he knew that this time, he’d stay.

[cultven]

hii i love reading yor fics sososo much T_T<333

I'd like to request a fic where Logan dreams that he hurts the reader, almost killing them. The reader notices that he's having a nightmare and wakes him up, he's disoriented and in panic, but when he realized what just happened he is incredibly relieved to see that reader is ok and alive. Maybe he even breaks down and cries, which really shocks the reader cuz they arent used to seeing Logan like this 🥺 Then the reader comforts him and takes care of him until he's back asleep.

As It Should Be

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Comfort, crying, poor Logan cannot catch a break, but you're there to dig him out of his sadness hole, he loves you a lot, lots of fluff while comforting him

Word Count: 1.39k

Warnings: Some graphic violence during the nightmare segment

a/n: Thank you for the kind words! This one honestly got a little graphic in terms of gore, but nothing too bad, so hopefully that’s ok! This was fun to write, enjoy!

No. What had he done? 

Logan stood in a pile of debris and rubble, his white tank top and jeans now caked in blood that wasn’t his. Claws refusing to retract, Logan felt utterly hopeless against his own body. His actions weren’t his own as he trudged towards the only person left alive; you. You were scared, that much was clear by your facial expression and hasty movements to crawl backward away from the mutant. 

“Logan… this isn’t you, please.” You plead, eyes darting around the scene to find help, anyone that is still alive or conscious. All you could take in was the decimated mansion and the mauled corpses of your loved ones. What had taken over Logan? Why did he destroy the very things he risked his life for countless times? 

As Logan looked into your frightened eyes his heart clenched, knowing what was coming next. He just wishes he could stop it. Watching himself tear through his other family hurt like hell, but having to watch you die he didn’t think he could bear it. You were his entire world, the only thing that could ground him when he fell down the pits of self-destruction. He would forever kill himself before harming you. But this version of himself had other plans. 

He trudged over, claws glistening in the light of fire around them. “No, no no no…” You chant, still trying to escape the man but your legs are rendered useless due to your paralyzing fear. With one swift movement, Logan begins to tear through flesh and muscle, watching in horror as his hands mutilate his love against his will. You could do nothing but lay there, screaming in pain, your mutant ability keeping you alive for longer than you wanted to be. Logan wished he was the one being gutted. In a way, he was. Anyone else, anyone but you deserved his wrath. 

Tears clung tightly to his eyes as his hand retracted from your body, lining up for the final shot to the head. As the blade commences its soar towards your skull, Logan jolts up from a lying position and hastily takes in his surroundings. It was dark, he was under a blanket of sorts, and oh, he was in your bedroom. Had it only been a nightmare? No, it was far too cruel and realistic to have been. Even Logan’s mind wasn’t so callous to make him live through such a horror. So then, it must have been real? Logan begins to hyperventilate, raising his hands to eye level. His claws were away, and his rough skin was clean of blood. But, as he blinked, grotesque images flashed through his mind. Sick crimson blood, your blood, begins to stain his hands, drying in a disgusting reddish-brown. He immediately jumped out of bed, went into the ensuite bathroom, and scrubbed his hands raw. 

“No, no no no.” He chanted under his breath as he tried to scrape off the non-existent material. The cold water was not enough to ground him back to reality, Logan eventually gave up and put him back to the skin, sliding down towards the floor to cradle his head in his hands. Thanks to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and Logan’s hard footsteps, you eventually stir awake. At first, nothing seemed wrong, maybe he just had to use the bathroom. But after the sound of continuous water for five minutes you grew increasingly concerned. Deciding to confront the man you carefully walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock three times, not to startle him during whatever he’s doing. 

“Lo?” It was only one syllable, but your sweet voice saying his nickname out loud was enough to send Logan scrambling. The door eagerly burst open, and when it did the sight you were met with shocked your heart. There was Logan on the ground, clearly disheveled, eyes bloodshot and teary. “Oh baby, what happened?” You coo, going to take a step forward but immediately retreating seeing Logan flinch. 

“You’re- you’re real, right?” Logan tentatively asks, sounding scared. Of course, you were real, why wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yes, love.” You stay put in your place. You didn’t want to upset him further.

“No… I ripped you apart. You died by my hands.” You resist the urge to outwardly exclaim how ridiculous he sounded before realizing he more than likely had a nightmare. Logan was prone to bad dreams, but none ever shook him quite as much as this. The only good thing that came out of the consistent night terrors was that you now knew how to soothe him in times like these. 

“I’m right here my love. I’m not hurt. See? I’m perfectly okay.” Your voice stays calm and soothing, not wanting to startle him further. “Touch my hand. Feel my skin. I am right here.” Usually, the sensation of touch grounded him from this distressed state, but this time he seemed hesitant to even look in your direction. 

“I can’t. I might hurt you again.” Logan looked so small and it broke you. He was huddled into himself, still looking at you untrusting. The thought of himself harming you any further plagued his mind, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. You were his world, his everything. He curses his body for the immortality that was bestowed upon him because if anything happens to you he wants to follow right behind. 

Realizing you may seem intimidating due to the fact you’re standing tall over his curled-up body you lower yourself and sit criss-cross applesauce across from him. Putting your hand out in between your two bodies you silently sit there, waiting for Logan to take this at his own pace. After a few minutes, Logan seems calm enough to touch your hand. Fingertips only brush at first, then a loose handhold, then a firm grasp on each other. Before either of you knew it you were fully embracing, Logan nuzzling his head into your neck. He needed to take you in every sense, to prove this was real. His nose took in your intoxicating perfume, his hands gripped your curves, his ears heard your soft breaths release from your mouth, and when he pulled back his eyes took in the sight of you. You were as stunning as always even with your messy hair and tired eyes. You were real, you were here, and you were his. 

Seeing as your boyfriend has calmed down you decided to relocate to a more comfortable area. “Let’s get off this gross floor, okay love? Let’s go to bed.” You whisper, carefully tugging him along to your shared bed. Once you two got settled down you were instantly back in his strong arms, protecting you from the rest of the world. You thought all was said and done for the night until Logan spoke up. 

“You were so scared. I made you scared.” He hated seeing you that way. It hurt him. What hurt worse was that he was the cause of it. He now understands it wasn’t real, but your expression was so gut-wrenching he couldn’t shake it off. 

“Logan I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” You reassured him. “Except maybe when you squeeze me to death with your bear hugs.” Logan chuckled a little bit, your humor always lightens the mood. You lay in silence for a bit, almost dozing off until you hear a voice next to you. 

“Thank you for dealing with me.” You smile, leaning over and kissing the man gingerly on the cheek. 

“It’s what I signed up for my love. Besides, you could never be a bother to me.” He smiles back, a rare sight to anyone but yourself. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too.” With that resignation you two cuddle, arms and legs entangled with one another’s. Eventually, Logan is lulled back to sleep while listening to the steady beat of your heart. Instead of another nightmare, he is met with a blissful dream of the two of you living together on a mountain, away from all the violence and harm the world holds. Just as it should be. 

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar had blabbed. That’s the only explanation you could come up with at the moment, given the position you found yourself in, kneeling at your friends’ feet.

It’s 4am, leave me alone. Inspired by these pics

Warnings: blowjobs, sex, threesome, one mention of yolo, and if you don’t like cum, probably don’t read this, it’s filthy (literally), PinV sex at the end

Alex and Logan had been eyeing you up all week. At first, they seemed to be glancing in your direction constantly, head movements catching your attention, but as soon as you’d look back at them they would avert their eyes. Then you noticed that they were staring at you for longer periods of time from across the room, seemingly unaware of what they were doing until they’d snap out of it on their own. But yesterday, that was when you saw their gazes shift into something else. Before they ranged from blank to vaguely curious, but yesterday, they looked hungry. It sent a shiver down your spine the first time. Now you just found it downright confusing, wondering what could have possessed them to start looking at you that way.

That night you were at your best pal Oscar’s place in Monaco, having just given him a congratulatory blowjob for his performance in the race (Oscar always said you were the best he’d ever known at giving head), and you decided to tell him.

“You know, Alex and Logan have been acting real weird lately” you called from the bathroom.

“Yeah? In what way?” he replied, in bed scrolling on his phone.

“Well… at first they just started staring at me, I think unconsciously, but now they’ve started looking at me like they want to eat me or something. ”

‘Shit!’ he thought. You couldn’t see him, but his eyes widened and he immediately started typing out a message to the boys: "what the fuck guys? Stop staring at her it’s weirding her out!"

“What do you mean?” he asked you, managing to keep his voice level.

“I don’t know… like- I’ve only ever seen that look when someone wants to rail me, you know? But it can’t be that, right?” You came out of the bathroom and Oscar turned his phone off a little too quickly, which confused you, but you were too tired to question it at that moment as you crawled into bed and snuggled up to him.

“Nah probably not, maybe you’re imagining things?” he tried, you didn’t bite.

“Absolutely not. We’re flying with them tomorrow, then you can see for yourself.”

The next morning when you woke up, you saw that you’d been added to a three way group chat with the two Williams drivers. You had two messages:

Alex: ‘We need to talk to you, privately”

Logan: ‘It’s nothing too serious tho dw <3’

‘Thank god for Logan’ you thought. Unbeknownst to you, they had been bickering all morning about how to broach the subject.

You would all be meeting at Nice airport to get a jet together so you didn’t have to wait too long for answers.

The four of you were alone on the jet, and when Logan got up to go to the bathroom, you glanced at him and he motioned for you to follow him.

'Okay, here we go' you thought nervously.

He closed the door behind you and you stared at him waiting for him to speak first, but he just stood there fidgeting nervously so you broke the silence.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?"

The room was relatively cramped so you were rather close, closer than you were used to, and you were able to count the freckles that dusted his face as you waited for an answer.

Instead of doing so however, he surged forward and kissed you. Which was confusing, but to be fair you weren’t going to start asking questions, as his lips were softly trailing over your jaw, making you let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week” he mumbled into your neck.

Before you even had time to form a response, the door slid open and there stood Alex, with a massive smirk on his face at the sight of you two.

“Started without me Logan? Bastard.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, as you stood there, half pressed against the sink by Logan’s hips, and very confused at was on earth was going on.

Alex came and pressed a light kiss to your temple before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Are you okay with this?”

You nodded, not even sure what ‘this’ was but, yolo, as the kids say.

So he plastered his body to your side and turned your head to kiss you, as Logan started trailing downwards, taking the waistband of your joggers with him. He gasped loudly as he very quickly realized you hadn’t put any underwear on underneath. You glanced down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? I travel comfy!”

Logan didn’t even hear you as he was already trailing kisses all over your thighs, lifting one of them and hooking it over his shoulder. His fingers spread you as he licked a broad stripe from your perineum to your clit, making you shudder in anticipation.

Alex’s hand on your jaw brought your mouth back to his, and his other hand snuck under your top to play with your breasts, making you keen under his touch.

One of your hands was in Logan’s hair as he lapped up your juices, getting his face soaked in the process, the other was making its way into Alex’s pants to grab hold of his cock, which had been hard ever since he saw you get up to follow Logan to the bathroom.

Your movements were uncoordinated as you were getting closer to orgasm on Logan’s tongue (and fingers that had since joined the party), and when you came, Alex had to put his hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from you.

Logan stood up, a fucked out expression on his face, and licked his lips before grabbing Alex by the hair and crashing their lips together, Alex groaning into his mouth at the taste of you on his tongue.

You took their distraction as an opportunity to get down on your knees and unbuckle Logan’s pants, immediately getting his cock out and licking a long stripe form base to tip.

That made him shudder and he moaned into Alex’s mouth, the two of them still going at it, so you took him deeper and deeper, alternating expertly between breathing through your nose and swallowing, and you took Alex out of his pants to start stroking him at the same pace.

It eventually got too intense for poor Logan as he grabbed your hair and pulled you off him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too fast if you keep going like that.”

Alex grinned at him, then down at you. “You really are the best then, yeah?”

Your brain didn’t even register the implications behind that statement as you took Alex into your mouth, down to the base in one go, as if to say ‘see for yourself’.

You alternated between the two of them, getting them to the edge before pulling off to breath properly before switching. At some point they had started kissing again, groaning into each other’s mouths and running their hands through each other’s hair.

Then, without warning, the door opened and there stood Oscar, smug as anything.

“Well well well, what’s all this then?”

The image of George briefly flashed in your collective minds.

You pulled off with an obscene pop and looked up at the other two boys.

What sight the three of you made, you on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, Alex and Logan flushed and messy, hair sticking up and looking fucked out, with their cocks out.

That’s when it all clicked. The looks, Oscar’s avoidance, this whole mess in the bathroom.

Oscar must have blabbed about your activities to them.

You turned to the man in question.

“Did you plan this?!”

He laughed. “No one could have planned this. But I did mention to them how good you are for me, and I’m certainly enjoying the show. Do carry on, that looks painful.” he said, gesturing to where Alex and Logan were still hard, and leaking all over themselves. You looked at them in disbelief.

“Are you enjoying this? Being watched by your best friend while you’re getting sucked off?”

They had the audacity to look bashful, and it also kind of did it for you. So you slowly took Logan back into your mouth and Alex in your hand and they groaned in unison. You savoured every second of it, even the sound of Oscar’s breath hitching as he inevitably started touching himself in time with your pace, made you wet.

As the three men got closer, their noises got louder and Alex asked “Where?”

Oscar answered for you. “If you ask nicely she’ll let you come anywhere you want”

The two others groaned and quickly rushed out “Can I come on your tits?” and “On your face, please?”

You nodded at them, and they started jerked off hard and fast, aiming at your face and breasts as you closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out. Alex came a couple of seconds before Logan, painting your face in streaks of white, most of it landing on your tongue, then you felt another load land on your chest as Logan whined out his orgasm.

As Logan caught his breath, Alex pulled you to your feet and kissed you sweetly as a thank you, before he leaned down and started working his tongue over where Logan’s cum streaked your skin, making you gasp. Then Logan came closer and started licking Alex’s cum off your face. It was hands down the weirdest situation you’d ever been in, but it was hot as fuck. That was made obvious by how Oscar groaned behind you, still working over his cock at a leisurely pace.

“What a sight you three make. If Lando were here he would cream his pants…”

You huffed “I’m sure he would, but you’re certainly not going to tell him about this, right?”

His eyes twinkled “We’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow in Montreal.”

The other two finished cleaning you up and got you (and themselves) dressed again, kissed you one last time, Logan giving you a quick tap on the ass, before leaving you and Oscar alone.

“You mind getting on your knees one last time for me, baby?”

“Anything for you, Osc” You smiled, but before you could move, he grabbed your arm.

“Actually… I want to make you feel good too.” He glanced at the mirror. “Stand in front of the sink, hands on the mirror.”

You obliged, planting yourself firmly before he pulled down your pants, already having noticed your lack of underwear earlier, and pushed a couple of fingers into you.

“God, baby, you’re dripping.”

“I know that, just get your dick in me!”

He chuckled and lined himself up, bottoming out in one go.

“Fuck- so warm and tight, just for me” he groaned and kissed your neck before grabbing your hips tight, and pounding into you.

The angle made it so that he hit your g spot on every thrust, getting you close to the edge in record time, your loud moans spurring him on to go harder.

You came together, panting and coming down from your highs with him wrapped around you, breathing into your neck.

Logan and Alex were in the cabin, listening to yours and Oscar’s needy moans as they squirmed in their seats. They were wondering if maybe next time, Oscar would let them fuck you.

[fairlyang]

One more 🐺

w/c: 709

tags: 18+ smut. cunnilingus, sitting on his face, overstimulation, praise, teasing, tiny bit of brattiness, munch!logan, he jerks himself off, getting off at the same time

a/n: something small! wrote the first three paragraphs like two days ago for funsies. up next a request that’s so😵‍💫

logan gripped your thighs when you tried to escape from his grasp, yet again. he grunted against you and gave you a glare while he continued lapping at your folds like he has for the past hour.

he’s already made you cum twice but he wanted to pull one more from you just because he could.

you’ve been sat on his face struggling to get off because the overstimulation was too much but he wasn’t letting you. his arms were holding you still and you had no choice but to just shake and let him take another orgasm from you.

you were holding onto the headboard to stay steady while one of logan’s hands went back down to stroke himself. he didn’t even let you face the other direction so you could help him because he was stubborn on keeping you like this, writhing above him.

he had been edging himself the whole time just for the sole fact that he knew how much he’d spill when he reaches an orgasm. he knew there’d be no complaints from you after having all of it in your mouth but he just needed one more from you.

he pulled away for a split second and you thought you were free until he spoke, “c’mon pretty girl, just one more.”

you looked down at him and whined, “it’s too much-“

“haven’t used that safe word yet now have you baby?” he asked and you slowly shook your head.

“then? you just like to pretend you don’t like it, huh?” he teased making you moan.

he knew you too well.

“that’s what I thought princess.” he mumbled and with that he went back to savoring your sweet pussy since he knew you deep down loved it.

he knew you loved when your head was so fuzzy and all you can think of is his mouth plus all the pleasure he’s giving you is on another level when you’re overstimulated.

you’d be a little bratty but that was only so he could tease you about it or use it against you later.

you not so secretly loved it but luckily for you, he’ll occasionally indulge you.

he sucked on your clit with his eyes closed, focusing on the smell of your arousal and the sweet sounds of every noise that left your mouth. you were just so perfect in every way he could possibly ask for.

you then started to slowly ride his face making him groan against you, sending shivers down your spine, “fuck logan-“

your thighs shook as you moved your hips back and forth but he held onto you with that one hand, making sure you were up and going. his tongue perfectly outstretched so he’d be licking every inch of you with your movements.

by this point you felt so drowsy but you could feel so close to the edge again. with fluttering eyes and sloppy thrusts, you kept going, desperate to cum in his mouth for the final time.

logan could feel your pussy pulsing against his tongue so he quickened his pace on his dick, he needed to cum with you. he let you ride his face while he flicked his tongue back and forth with you, your orgasm already building in your lower tummy.

“baby i’m so close-“ you murmured, holding tightly onto the headboard.

you turned your head to look at him stroking himself, also desperate for an orgasm, “please cum with me baby.” you whined making him moan against you, sending you both right off the edge.

you watched as his load spilled and made it to his stomach as you came on his mouth. he slowed down and just left soft kisses on your slit as a way for you to ride your high.

meanwhile your legs were shaking and you couldn’t hold on anymore. he pulled his mouth away from you and quickly helped you throw one leg over so you could lay next to him.

he brought your body close to his, your head on his chest as his hand gently rubbed your head. “did so good baby, i’m so proud of you.”

you closed your eyes and smiled, content with his sweet praise and finally let sleep take over your body.

[shybluebirdninja]

Takeout Trauma

Summary: Logan orders food but can't understand the concept of “spicy” and now he's drinking milk straight from the carton.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader Note                : fluff

The smell of takeout fills the air—a mix of savory spices, fried goodness, and that unmistakable kick of heat. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, casually scrolling on your phone, when you hear a low, irritated grumble from the other side of the room.

Logan’s standing by the fridge, his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that are probably a little too perfect for their own good. His jaw clenched, lips tight. He’s holding a takeout container in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

“Babe,” you call out, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

Logan doesn’t respond at first. He just stands there, staring down at the now very suspicious-looking food on his plate. Steam rises lazily from it, the scent of peppers and something fiery hitting your nose even from across the room.

He finally moves, his shoulders tense, and with a growl, he slams the takeout container down on the counter with a heavy thunk.

“This—” he motions to the food like it's an enemy in a bar fight, “—is too damn spicy. What the hell is 'mild' supposed to mean if this burns like the damn sun?”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip. “Didn’t they ask you if you wanted spicy?”

Logan glares at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, they did. And I said no. They asked if I wanted ‘mild.’ Thought that meant something normal. Not... this.” He gestures angrily to the food, nostrils flaring like he’s about to start a war with the takeout place.

Oh, yeah. He’s suffering.

You lean against the counter, folding your arms across your chest. “Well, babe, I told you before. Spicy food here isn’t like what you had back in the cabin. This is, like, next-level stuff.”

He lets out another frustrated grunt, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve fought wars that were easier than this.”

You can’t help it anymore—you laugh, and Logan shoots you a look, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something close to amusement. Still, he turns away from you, yanking open the fridge door with more force than necessary. The cold air hits him in the face, but it doesn’t seem to cool him off. He grabs the carton of milk, pops the cap, and without any hesitation, brings it straight to his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, watching as he guzzles down half the carton, milk dripping down his chin in the process. His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, and for a moment, you’re more distracted by that than anything else.

“Really?” you say, trying to sound exasperated but failing because you’re still half-laughing. “Drinking it straight from the carton?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still scowling, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching. “What? It’s milk. Does the trick.” He slams the carton back in the fridge, letting the door close with a solid thud.

You shake your head, walking around him to inspect the food on the counter. The takeout container is practically glowing with how much red pepper oil is slicked across it.

“This,” you say, poking at it with a fork, “is what happens when you think you can handle the spice.”

Logan grunts, stepping closer to you. His hands rest on the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the plate of dangerous food.

“It wasn’t marked like that on the menu,” he mutters, his voice low, like he’s trying to justify the whole situation. “False advertising.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, grinning. “You’re just mad because food kicked your ass for once.”

Logan’s eyes darken, and he leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your neck. “Keep talkin’, darlin’. You’re gonna end up eating this stuff just to prove a point.”

You laugh, pushing against his chest playfully. “I’m not the one trying to win a food fight, babe. But seriously, next time, just ask for plain. Or, you know, let me order. I’ve mastered the art of not burning my face off.”

He straightens up, crossing his arms, and the look he gives you is pure Logan—half-annoyed, half-amused, but mostly trying not to laugh at himself.

“I can handle my food,” he insists, but there’s no real conviction in his voice.

You arch an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

You turn to grab your own takeout container from the counter, opening it carefully and taking a small bite. It’s perfect—just the right amount of spice. The food’s warm, savory, and doesn’t set your mouth on fire.

 “How’s yours?” he asks, but you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“It’s great,” you say casually, popping another bite in your mouth. “Not too spicy.”

Logan stares at you for a beat, then sighs, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Swap with me.”

You laugh, holding your container out to him. “Admitting defeat?”

“Call it what you want,” he grumbles, grabbing your container and handing you his. “But I ain’t about to waste perfectly good food.”

You take his container gingerly, half-expecting it to burn your fingers just from the heat. “You sure you don’t want me to grab you another drink?” you tease, watching as he digs into your much milder meal.

Logan shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Nah,” he says after a moment, wiping his mouth with his hand. “This is better. But next time, babe, you’re ordering.”

You grin, leaning into him. “Deal. But, babe?”

He looks down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You might wanna clean up the milk you spilled everywhere.”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - who are we to fight the alchemy? pt.2

chapter summary: Things are back to normal at the X-Mansion, other than the new, permanent addition of Logan. But he's not here for anything other than you.

word count: 18.4k+ (total 36.6k+)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: here's part 2! (tags and summary are the same)

warnings/tags: fluff, reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, logan pining, soft!logan, slow burn (like... slow. burn.), one bed, brief sickness, brief insecurities, almost too much fluff holy sh-, reader has slight backstory, mention of twirling hair, brief injury

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 9

The sound of rain pattering against the windows filled the room, the occasional roll of thunder causing the lights to flicker faintly. You glanced at Theresa, who was huddled close to the arm of the couch, clutching a stuffed rabbit in one hand and her cards in the other. Across from her, Jones was grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying the game despite the storm outside.

“Got any sevens?” Theresa asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Jones narrowed his eyes dramatically before sighing and handing over a card. “You’re lucky,” he muttered. “I was gonna use that to win.”

Theresa smiled faintly, her fear of the thunder momentarily forgotten. You couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride for how brave she was being—storms were hard for her, but she was hanging in there.

“You’re doing great, Theresa,” you said, offering her an encouraging smile. “And Jones, don’t think I didn’t see you sneak that card earlier.”

Jones’s eyes widened in mock offense. “I did not!”

You raised a brow, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before Jones could come up with a witty retort, the door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside, shaking rainwater from his jacket. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere, the kids sitting up a little straighter while you felt your chest tighten with a mix of nervousness and warmth.

“Storm’s pickin’ up out there,” Logan remarked, his eyes briefly scanning the room before landing on you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t think I’d find you playin’ Go Fish, darlin’.”

You adjusted your glasses, trying to ignore the way his nickname made your heart skip. “Theresa didn’t want to be alone during the storm, so we’re keeping her company.”

Logan’s attention shifted to the young girl, his expression losing its usual gruffness. “Smart call, kiddo. Storms can be rough.”

Theresa nodded, clutching her rabbit tighter. “It’s really loud.”

Logan crouched down to her level, his tone unusually gentle. “Tell you what—next time it gets too loud, you just look at me. I’ll make sure it’s nothin’ to worry about.”

Theresa gave him a tentative smile, and you felt your chest ache at the sight. Logan had a way of being unexpectedly tender when it mattered, and it always caught you off guard.

“What about me?” Jones piped up, clearly fishing for the same attention. “Can I look at you if it gets too loud?”

Logan ruffled Jones’s hair with a scoff. “You? You’ll be fine, tough guy.”

Jones grinned, puffing out his chest like he’d just been handed a badge of honor.

“Wanna join us?” you asked, gesturing to the game. “We’re about to see who’s got the best poker face.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Not sure Go Fish is what they mean by a poker face, but sure.” He pulled up a chair, settling in beside you. His arm brushed yours briefly as he leaned forward, and you had to fight the urge to shift closer.

As the game resumed, you found yourself glancing at Logan more often than you intended. He was surprisingly good at keeping the kids engaged, his gruff teasing making them laugh despite the storm raging outside. Every so often, his eyes would meet yours, and the corners of his mouth would lift in a way that felt like it was meant just for you.

Eventually, the storm began to die down, the thunder growing more distant. Theresa yawned, her eyelids drooping as she leaned against your shoulder. Jones followed not long after, slumping into the armchair with his deck of cards scattered around him.

“Looks like they’re done for the night,” Logan murmured, his voice low enough that it felt intimate in the quiet room.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, brushing a strand of hair from Theresa’s face. “I’ll take her up to bed.”

“I’ll get Jones,” Logan said, standing and scooping the boy up effortlessly. He carried him with the ease of someone used to it, his movements careful not to wake him.

You followed Logan to the hallway, each of you heading to a different room to settle the kids in. When you returned to the common room, the storm had died down, leaving behind only the faint sound of quiet rain.

Logan was waiting for you by the couch, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You’re good with them,” he said, his tone quieter now.

You shrugged, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “They’re good kids. Just needed a distraction.”

His eyes lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Guess you’re good at that, too.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you settled for a small, grateful smile. Logan seemed content with that, his lips quirking into a faint grin before he gestured toward the door.

“C’mon. You’ve been cooped up all night. Let’s take a walk.”

Your eyes widened as you looked out the windows, the rain still drumming steadily against the glass. “It’s raining.”

Logan smirked, shrugging one shoulder as he leaned against the doorway. “You scared of a little water, sweetheart?”

You gave him a look, though the slight flush creeping up your neck betrayed your flustered reaction to his teasing. “I’m not scared. It’s just—what’s the point? We’ll get soaked.”

“That’s the idea,” Logan said, his grin widening. He pushed off the doorframe and gestured toward the hall. “Go grab a jacket. Fresh air’ll do you good.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the couch where you’d been sitting with the kids not long ago. The room was quiet now, and the remnants of the storm had left it feeling oddly still. Maybe he was right—a little walk might be nice. Plus, the way he was watching you, half-smirk and half-something else, made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you relented, adjusting your glasses and heading for the hallway. “But if I catch a cold, it’s on you.”

Logan’s chuckle followed you. “Deal.”

---

The air outside was crisp and cool, the rain having softened to a misty drizzle that clung to your skin. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket, trying not to think about the way Logan’s pace matched yours so easily or how his presence seemed to chase away the lingering chill from the storm.

“You always this quiet?” he asked after a moment, his voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the leaves.

You glanced up at him, your glasses misting slightly in the damp air. “What do you mean?”

Logan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “You’re always thinkin’, darlin’. Like your head’s miles away.”

You looked down, a little embarrassed. “I just… think a lot, I guess. It’s not a bad thing.”

“Didn’t say it was,” he replied, his voice softer now. “Just curious what’s got you so wrapped up.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. “It’s nothing, really. Just… trying to make sense of everything, I guess.”

“Everything, huh?” Logan glanced at you, his sharp gaze lingering. “That’s a lot to figure out.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. “What about you? Do you ever think about… everything?”

Logan let out a low laugh, though there was something almost bitter behind it. “Not much point in it. Most of the time, everything’s just a mess.”

You stopped walking, turning to look at him fully. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

He met your gaze, his expression softening just slightly. “Used to,” he admitted. “Not so much anymore. Guess I’m just used to it.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your chest ache. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached out and brushed a raindrop off the sleeve of his jacket without thinking, the movement small but oddly intimate.

Logan’s eyes flicked to your hand, then back to your face. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You blinked, startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means I don’t know what to do with you half the time,” he said, his tone low but not unkind. “You’re shy as hell, but you’ve got guts when it counts. Makes a guy wonder.”

“Wonder what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan didn’t answer right away, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than felt comfortable—and yet, you didn’t want to look away. Finally, he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I’ll figure that out.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you quickly looked down, pretending to adjust your glasses. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

The two of you continued walking in silence, the quiet between you feeling less like an absence and more like an unspoken understanding. Every so often, your arm would brush his, and while you told yourself it was just the narrow path, a small part of you wondered if Logan wasn’t making the space smaller on purpose.

By the time you circled back toward the mansion, the rain had stopped entirely, leaving the air smelling fresh and clean. Logan held the door open for you without a word, and you stepped inside, your cheeks still warm from the walk.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing back at him.

Logan gave you one of his faint, lopsided grins. “Anytime, darlin’.”

As you headed down the hallway toward your room, you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant it. Something told you he did.

---

“Just as in the kinetic theory of gases, it is not merely the average effect of a large number of atoms that comes into consideration in the electromagnetic interpretation of optical phenomena. Thus, in the scattering of light the random distribution of the atoms makes the effects of the individual atoms appear in such a way that a direct counting of the atoms is possible. In fact, Rayleigh estimated from the intensity of the scattered blue light of the sky the number of atoms in the atmosphere, obtaining results in satisfactory agreement with the counting of atoms obtained by Perrin from a study of the Brownian motion. The rational mathematical representation of the electromagnetic theory is based on the application of vector analysis- ”

Hands gripped your shoulders and startled you, making you look up from your book.

“What’ve I told you about walkin’ and not payin’ attention?” he asked, his voice tinged with both amusement and exasperation. His eyes flicked down to the book in your hands.

Caught off guard, you stammered, “I wasn’t—I mean, I was paying attention. Just… not to where I was walking.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be at dinner, not wanderin’ the halls like some kinda ghost.”

“You aren’t there either,” you pointed out, your cheeks warming as you adjusted your glasses.

“Touché,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What’s got you so wrapped up you skipped eatin’?”

“It’s a book by Niels Bohr,” you said, holding up the slim volume. “Atomic Theory and the Description of Nature. I got caught up in the section on the kinetic theory of gases and the Rayleigh scattering of light.”

Logan gave you a look that was part curiosity, part bewilderment. “You realize most folks wouldn’t understand a word of what you just said, right?”

You smiled sheepishly. “It’s not that complicated once you break it down.”

“Go ahead,” he said, his tone turning softer. “Break it down for me.”

You hesitated, unsure if he was serious, but the genuine interest in his eyes convinced you to start. As you explained the connection between the scattering of light, the composition of the atmosphere, and how Bohr linked it to atomic theory, Logan listened intently at first, nodding occasionally.

But as your excitement grew, so did the gloss of your lips, drawing his attention. The soft sheen shifted as you spoke, catching the light in a way that teased at his focus. Logan’s thoughts started to drift. Cherry or strawberry? He’d caught faint hints of sweetness before when you were close, but he’d never been able to place it.

As you continued talking, your voice animated, your shy demeanor falling away in the face of your enthusiasm, Logan’s restraint finally snapped. Without warning, he leaned in and kissed you, cutting you off mid-sentence.

The kiss was firm, heady, and left no room for doubt about what he’d been holding back. His hand cradled the side of your face, the other sliding to your waist as if anchoring you to the moment. Your book slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud, but neither of you noticed.

When Logan finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he muttered against your lips, his voice gravelly and low, “fuck, it’s cherry.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “W-what?”

“Your lip gloss,” he clarified, his tone almost amused but still rough with lingering desire. “Been drivin’ me mad for months.”

Your face burned as you tried to process his words, your lips still tingling. “You— I—”

Logan smirked, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Guess I should’ve asked sooner.”

You blinked at him, flustered beyond words, but the warmth in his gaze settled something deep inside you. He straightened, his hand lingering at your waist before reluctantly stepping back.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he said, his smirk softening into something gentler. “Let’s get you to dinner before I forget how to behave.”

Still dazed, you bent down to retrieve your book, but your fingers brushed his as he’d bent to grab it too. You both froze for a moment before he chuckled softly, handing it back to you.

“Careful with that,” he teased. “Can’t have you losin’ Bohr to my bad manners.”

You managed a shy smile, clutching the book to your chest as you walked beside him toward the dining hall. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your lips from curving up every time you caught him glancing your way.

---

For a day or two after the kiss, you found yourself unconsciously avoiding Logan. It wasn’t that you regretted what had happened—far from it. If anything, the memory of his lips on yours lingered like the faint taste of cherries that always lay on your lips, setting your heart racing every time you replayed the moment.

But that was exactly the problem. It had caught you so off-guard, had unraveled you so completely, that you didn’t know how to face him without your cheeks burning or your words tangling into incoherence.

Logan, for his part, seemed to respect the space you were giving yourself. He didn’t corner you in the hallways or push for your attention like he might’ve done with someone else. Instead, he found quieter ways to remind you he was still there.

On the first morning after the kiss, when you arrived at your desk in the mansion’s small but cozy library, you noticed a steaming mug of tea waiting for you. The ceramic was warm beneath your fingers, the faint scent of chamomile and honey wafting up. A note rested beside it, the words scrawled in Logan’s rough handwriting:

Didn’t see you at breakfast. Figured you could use this.

You smiled despite yourself, fingers brushing over the paper before tucking it into the corner of your notebook. That same morning, during a meeting with the team, Logan casually pulled out the chair beside him before you could sit, earning a teasing look from Jean.

“You’re being awfully polite today,” Jean remarked, her tone light but curious.

Logan grunted nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat. “Just tryin’ to set an example for the kids.”

Jean’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say more, but she held back. You busied yourself by adjusting your glasses, thankful for the distraction when Scott started talking.

But even as Logan kept his distance, his presence was everywhere. When you left your jacket in the lounge, it somehow reappeared on the back of your chair in the lecture hall. A book you’d misplaced turned up on your desk with no explanation. Small gestures, easily overlooked by anyone else, but each one sent your heart into overdrive.

---

It wasn’t until the third day after the kiss that Logan finally had enough. You’d been walking back to your quarters after finishing a late tutoring session with Rogue and Bobby when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him.

“Whoa there, sweetheart,” he said, his hands steadying your arms before you could step back. “You been dodgin’ me, or am I imaginin’ things?”

The warmth of his touch seeped through your sleeves, and you cursed the way your pulse quickened. “I—I haven’t been dodging you,” you lied, adjusting your glasses to avoid his gaze.

Logan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “Right. And I’m Cyclops’ biggest fan.” His voice softened, the gruffness easing. “C’mon, darlin’. Talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the strap of your bag. “I just... I needed time to think.”

“To think about what?” His tone wasn’t demanding, just curious, almost gentle.

“About what happened,” you admitted, finally meeting his gaze. “It caught me off-guard, Logan. I didn’t know what to say, and I guess I panicked.”

His brow furrowed slightly, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face before he nodded. “Fair enough. I’m not exactly known for takin’ it slow. If I pushed too hard—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you expected. “You didn’t. It’s just... no one’s ever done that before. And I—”

You stopped yourself, biting your lip as you searched for the right words. Logan’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then flicked back up to your eyes, his expression softening further.

Logan’s gaze stayed locked on yours, his voice soft but insistent. “And you?”

Your fingers tightened on the strap of your bag as you glanced at him. The hallway felt quieter than it should, the usual distant chatter and footsteps replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. Logan’s expression was open, patient in a way that left you unsure if you wanted to explain or simply step closer.

“And I…” You faltered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what to do after.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. His thumb brushed your sleeve, a barely-there gesture, but it steadied you somehow. “That all?” he asked, his tone calm but his eyes sharp, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to his chest. “I’m not used to— I mean, no one’s ever—” You cut yourself off, frustrated at your inability to form a complete sentence.

“No one’s ever kissed you?” he guessed, his voice tinged with surprise. His brow furrowed slightly, but there was no mockery, only quiet curiosity.

“No!” you blurted out, mortified. “I mean, not like that. Not…” You hesitated, then sighed. “Not like it mattered.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his eyes softening. “It mattered, sweetheart.” The words were simple, but they carried enough weight to make your breath catch.

You looked up at him then, and for the first time, you didn’t try to hide the uncertainty in your eyes. “I don’t know how to… do this,” you admitted softly.

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and warm. “Ain’t a test, Y/N. You don’t gotta have it all figured out.”

The way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. You took a slow breath, summoning a flicker of courage from somewhere deep within you. “What about you?” you asked, your voice trembling but steady enough. “What does it mean to you?”

His hand slipped from your arm, brushing down to linger at your wrist. His thumb grazed your pulse, and he seemed to take a moment before answering. “Means I finally stopped holdin’ back,” he said, his voice rough but honest. “Been tryin’ to stay outta your way, let you figure me out on your own. But that night…” His jaw tightened for a moment before he continued. “You were talkin’ about light scatterin’ and atoms, and all I could think about was how bad I wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

The admission left you stunned. You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of hesitation, but there was none. Only the raw honesty that seemed to define him.

“I should’ve asked first,” Logan added, his tone quieter. “But I ain’t sorry I did it.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, the tension easing slightly. “I don’t think I would’ve known how to answer if you had.”

“That so?” His lips quirked into a small smirk. “How about now?”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from him. Instead of answering, you took a step closer, closing the already small gap between you. His hand didn’t leave your wrist, and you felt the slight increase in his grip as you hesitated, your gaze dropping to his lips.

Then, before you could lose your nerve, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. It was softer than you expected, tentative and shy, but Logan didn’t let it stay that way for long. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just enough to coax a response from you. His free hand slid to the small of your back, steadying you as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

When you pulled back, breathless and flushed, Logan didn’t let you go. His forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the faint curve of his smile.

“Guess that answers that,” he murmured, his voice teasing but warm.

You managed a faint laugh, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Logan’s hand lingered on your back, his thumb tracing slow circles that made your skin tingle. “You still plannin’ on avoidin’ me, or can we put that behind us?”

You bit your lip, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your face. “I think we can put it behind us.”

“Good,” he said, his tone firm. “’Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’.”

The words settled something deep within you, their certainty grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. Logan stepped back just enough to let you regain your balance, though his hand stayed at your waist.

“Now,” he said, his smirk returning. “How ‘bout we grab somethin’ to eat before you start recitin’ atomic theory again?”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “Deal.”

As the two of you walked down the hall, side by side, Logan’s hand brushed yours, lingering for a moment before he finally laced his fingers through yours. It was such a simple gesture, yet it left your heart racing all over again. You didn’t let go.

---

“Outta the way, Scott,” you said, nudging him aside gently with your hip as you crouched down in front of Jean’s desk. He was halfway through wrestling with the stubborn drawer, tools scattered around his feet, his expression somewhere between frustrated and determined.

Scott glanced up, one eyebrow arching over the rim of his ruby-quartz glasses. “Oh, so now you’re a carpenter?”

“Not a carpenter,” you replied, pulling your gloves tighter, “just someone who knows a lost cause when I see one.” You gave the desk a quick once-over before prying at the stuck drawer with careful precision. “You’ve been at this for how long?”

Scott grumbled something under his breath but moved aside, folding his arms. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“You’re right. It’s worse.” Your lips quirked in a faint smile as you reached into the drawer, feeling for the jammed mechanism. “Jean asked me to look at it, didn’t she?”

“She mentioned it,” Scott said, emphasizing the word. “I didn’t think it required a second opinion.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve got a knack for fixing things that don’t want to be fixed,” you teased lightly, sending him a sidelong glance. The moment hung between you for a beat before the sound of heavy footsteps announced Logan’s approach.

“What’s this?” Logan’s gruff voice cut through the room as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. His dark eyes flicked to you, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know desk repair was part of the X-Men training program.”

“It’s not,” Scott said dryly, shooting Logan a sharp look. “What do you want, Logan?”

Logan didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on you, crouched by the desk, your sleeves pushed up and your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. He sauntered in, ignoring Scott entirely, and crouched down beside you.

“You need a hand, sweetheart?” Logan’s voice was quieter now, his attention focused entirely on you.

Scott made a noise of protest. “I’m right here—”

“Yeah, yeah, I see you,” Logan muttered dismissively before leaning closer. “What’s the issue?”

You tried to ignore the way his presence seemed to command the space, the warmth radiating from him even though he wasn’t touching you. “The drawer’s stuck. I think the rail might be bent.”

Logan reached past you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. “Let me take a look.”

“I’ve got it,” you said quickly, more out of reflex than anything else.

Logan just gave you that amused, slightly exasperated look of his, the one that somehow managed to make you feel like you were the only person in the room who mattered. “Humor me.”

You huffed but shifted slightly, letting him inspect the drawer. His hands, calloused and sure, worked the mechanism with ease, and within seconds, there was a soft click. The drawer slid open smoothly.

“Fixed,” Logan said, sitting back on his heels and flashing you a smirk. “Told ya.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Thanks.”

Scott cleared his throat, his irritation palpable. “Are you done?”

Logan didn’t even glance at him, his attention still on you as he stood, offering you a hand to help you up. “Looks like I am,” he said, his tone nonchalant, but his smirk betrayed him.

You took his hand, standing and brushing off your knees before looking at Scott. “The drawer’s fixed, so you’re welcome.”

Scott muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch, but Logan chuckled as if he had. “Don’t strain yourself with gratitude, Summers,” he quipped, stepping closer to you.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you nudged Logan’s arm lightly. “Stop antagonizing him.”

“What? I’m just helpin’,” Logan said, his tone all faux innocence.

Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly done with the both of you. “Thanks for fixing the drawer,” he said, pointedly not looking at Logan.

“Anytime,” you replied, flashing a quick smile before grabbing your bag from the floor. Logan was already holding the door open for you, his stance casual but his eyes watching you closely.

As you stepped past him, you murmured, “you’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan’s smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “You love it, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks heated, but you didn’t deny it, focusing instead on walking down the hallway with Logan falling into step beside you.

“Why do you always have to get under his skin?” you asked, glancing at him.

“’Cause it’s easy,” he replied with a shrug, his hand brushing yours as you walked. “And it’s fun.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re going to push him too far one day.”

“Nah,” Logan said, his tone confident. “He’s all bark, no bite. Kinda like a Chihuahua in red shades.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet hallway. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughin’,” he pointed out, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You bit your lip to stop the smile spreading across your face, but Logan noticed anyway. His hand brushed yours again, this time lingering, and you hesitated for only a moment before lacing your fingers through his.

“Thought you didn’t like public displays,” Logan teased gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

You gave him a sidelong glance, your voice soft but steady. “Maybe I’m getting used to it.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer as he squeezed your hand. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on keepin’ my distance.”

The ease of his words, the certainty in them, settled over you like a blanket. You weren’t sure when exactly things had shifted between the two of you, but you weren’t complaining.

---

Later that evening, you were sitting in the mansion’s kitchen, a mug of tea cradled in your hands, when Jean walked in. She looked tired, but her smile brightened when she saw you.

“Burning the midnight oil?” she asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring herself some water.

“Not tonight,” you replied, taking a sip of your tea. “Just needed to unwind for a bit.”

Jean leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment. “You seem… lighter lately,” she said, her tone curious but kind.

You felt a blush creeping up your neck but tried to play it off. “Do I?”

Jean’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You do. And Logan seems—well, let’s just say he’s been a lot less grumpy.”

Your grip on the mug tightened slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Jean hummed, taking a sip of her water. “Whatever’s going on, it suits you.”

You glanced at her, searching for any hint of teasing, but her smile was genuine. “Thanks, Jean.”

She nodded, setting her glass down. “Anytime. Just don’t let him get too cocky, okay? He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound light and easy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jean gave you a playful wink before heading back out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

---

You hummed to yourself as you finished folding your clothes in the laundry room, the gentle rhythm of the task giving your mind a rare moment of quiet. The warm scent of freshly dried fabric lingered in the air as you placed the last neatly folded shirt in the basket.

Just as you reached for the basket, Logan appeared in the doorway. He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed, his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t peg you for a laundry hummer,” he teased.

You glanced over your shoulder, a shy smile forming. “It’s either that or risk falling asleep mid-task.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he pushed off the doorframe and walked over. Without a word, he grabbed the basket from the counter.

“I’ve got it,” you protested, reaching for the basket. “It’s not heavy.”

Logan arched a brow. “Didn’t say it was. But why carry it when I’m right here?”

You sighed, not entirely annoyed but still a little flustered. “You know, I can handle a laundry basket, Logan.”

“Never said you couldn’t, darlin’.” His voice softened as he tilted his head to look at you. “But you don’t have to. Not when I’m around.”

Your stomach did a little flip at the way he said it—easy, matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was, at least with him.

He carried the basket out into the hall, and you trailed after him, not sure whether to keep arguing or just accept it. You opted for the latter, though you did mutter, “you’re something else.”

Logan smirked again but didn’t respond, his focus on navigating the hallway with the basket balanced easily in one hand. When you reached your room, he set it down just inside the door and turned back to you.

“Anythin’ else you need carried?” he asked, the teasing lilt back in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “I’ll let you know when I need a bodyguard for my groceries.”

Logan’s smirk softened into something warmer, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly busied yourself with the basket, pulling out the first stack of clothes to put away. Logan didn’t move to leave, though. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with an expression that was almost... content.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly, his lips curving into a small, private smile. “Just like watchin’ you.”

Your face grew warm, and you ducked your head, focusing on shoving your socks into a drawer. “You’re weird.”

He chuckled, low and deep, before pushing off the frame. “Maybe. But you like it.”

You didn’t respond—mostly because he wasn’t wrong—and Logan seemed satisfied with your silence. With a nod, he stepped out of the room, leaving you alone with the faint trace of his laughter still lingering in the air.

And the unmistakable feeling that you’d never get used to the way he made your heart race.

---

You flipped the page of your notes, underlining a key point to emphasize in tomorrow’s class. Logan sat on your bed, supposedly reading a book, though you doubted he’d turned a page in the last fifteen minutes. He was too quiet, and you could feel his gaze flick to you every so often.

“Something on your mind?” you asked without looking up, your pen tapping against the margin of your paper.

“Nah,” Logan drawled, though the corner of his mouth lifted. “Just wonderin’ how long you plan on workin’. Feels like you’ve been at it all night.”

You glanced at the clock on your desk. “It’s barely nine.”

“Still too late for work.” He set the book down—one you were now convinced he wasn’t reading—and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Y’know, you don’t have to keep yourself buried in this stuff.”

“It’s not like I’m overworking,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I’m just... organized.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, and you could feel his gaze softening. “Yeah, you’re somethin’ alright.”

You were about to make a quip back when he nodded toward your desk. “Why’s your room so... empty?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He gestured vaguely around. “I mean, there’s barely anything in here. No pictures, no knick-knacks. Hell, even my room’s got more personality.”

You set your pen down, glancing around the room as if seeing it through his eyes for the first time. He wasn’t wrong. Your walls were bare save for a single calendar, your shelves held only books and a lamp, and your desk was as spartan as a professor’s office.

“I guess I’m just used to it,” you said quietly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

Logan sat up fully, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied you. “Used to what?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the corner of your notebook. “Not having much. Growing up, my parents didn’t really... care to keep me around. My grandmother raised me, and she did her best, but we didn’t have a lot. I guess I never got used to decorating or buying stuff just because I wanted it.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, a shadow crossing his face. “Your folks didn’t want you?”

You shrugged, trying to make it seem like it didn’t bother you as much as it used to. “They had their own lives. Grandma was amazing, though. She always made sure I had what I needed. It just... wasn’t a lot.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw working as he processed what you’d said. Finally, he leaned back, his voice softer than you’d expected. “Sounds like she was a hell of a woman.”

“She was,” you agreed, smiling faintly. “She passed away when I was eighteen, but I owe her everything.”

Logan nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he spoke again. “You ever think about makin’ this place feel more like home?”

You blinked at him. “I don’t even know where I’d start.”

“Start with somethin’ small,” he suggested, his tone almost casual, but there was something deliberate in the way he spoke. “Picture frame, maybe. Couple of knick-knacks. I don’t know—whatever makes you feel good.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Why do you care if my room’s decorated?”

“‘Cause it’s yours,” he said simply. “And you deserve to have a place that feels like it.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you had to look away, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ll... think about it.”

Logan leaned back again, the corner of his mouth lifting in that familiar smirk. “Good. And if you need help, you know where to find me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just looking for an excuse to boss me around.”

“Damn right,” he replied, the teasing glint in his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

As you returned to your notes, Logan picked up his book again, but this time, he actually started reading. Still, every so often, you caught him glancing your way, that same soft look on his face.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself wonder what it might be like to make a place feel like home—with someone like him in it.

---

You, Logan, and Ororo were tasked with this month’s grocery shopping. Ororo tasked herself with picking out the fruits and vegetables, saying something about ‘not being confident in Logan’s abilities.’

You grabbed a few large boxes of rice while Logan pushed the half-full cart. You marked off ‘rice’ on your list as Logan turned the corner into the next aisle. As he walked ahead, you paused for a moment, your attention caught by a display in the bedding section. A soft white throw blanket was folded neatly on the shelf, its texture inviting. You reached out, brushing your fingers across it briefly before shaking your head and hurrying to catch up with Logan.

By the time you rounded the corner, Logan was already halfway down the aisle, scanning the shelves with casual disinterest. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you approaching. “What took you so long, sweetheart? You get lost?”

“Just got distracted,” you said, tucking the list back into your pocket.

His brow quirked slightly, and you knew he was about to say something teasing. Instead, he just gave you a small, knowing smile. “Figured as much. Ready to finish this up?”

You nodded, taking hold of the cart’s edge and steering it toward the canned goods. The rest of the trip passed in a comfortable rhythm—Ororo rejoined you both occasionally, dropping things into the cart with precision while Logan grumbled about the increasing load. You couldn’t help but smile as the two bickered lightly over produce, Logan insisting that his choices were ‘perfectly fine’ while Ororo shot him unimpressed looks.

When the shopping was done, you found yourself back in the parking lot, helping load bags into the van. Logan insisted on carrying most of the heavier ones despite your protests.

“You don’t need to play the hero every time we carry groceries,” you pointed out, balancing a bag filled with bread and snacks.

Logan smirked, slinging another bag over his shoulder. “Ain’t about bein’ a hero. Just don’t trust you not to drop the eggs.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he quipped, brushing past you to load the last of the bags. His voice was light, but there was something softer in the way he glanced back at you.

Ororo stepped in before you could reply, clapping her hands together. “Alright, let’s get back. I have a feeling the kids have already raided the pantry while we were gone.”

The drive back to the mansion was quiet, the evening sun casting long shadows across the road. Logan sat in the passenger seat, his arm resting on the open window. Occasionally, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. You tried not to think too much about the way your heart skipped when you met his gaze.

When you pulled into the driveway and began unloading, Logan’s pace slowed near the back of the van. As Ororo carried a few bags toward the mansion, Logan reached into the trunk and pulled something out, holding it behind his back.

“What’s that?” you asked, stepping closer.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Nothin’.”

You arched a brow, suspicion creeping in. “Logan…”

With a small smirk, he revealed the soft white throw blanket you’d admired earlier in the store. Your mouth opened in surprise, words failing you for a moment.

“You were lookin’ at it,” he said, his voice gruff but quiet. “Figured you might like it.”

Your cheeks burned, and you fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Didn’t say I had to.” He held it out to you, his expression softer than usual. “Just thought it’d be nice to have. That’s all.”

You took the blanket from him, your fingers brushing his briefly. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, but the warmth spreading through your chest was undeniable. “Thank you,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, as you leaned up and kissed the corner of his lips.

Logan blinked, clearly caught off guard, but his lips quirked into a soft smirk as you stepped back. “That’s all I get?” he teased, voice low. “A quick peck for goin’ outta my way like that?”

Your face warmed, but you mustered a little courage, shrugging. “Well, you didn’t have to get it.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to,” he countered, his tone somewhere between gruff and teasing. He stepped closer, the corner of the van offering a bit of privacy. His hand brushed your arm, thumb skimming just below your sleeve. “That blanket looked like it had your name written all over it. Figured it’d be a crime not to grab it.”

You ducked your head, your shyness bubbling to the surface, but you couldn’t fight the smile creeping across your lips. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“Nah.” He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Just enough, I’d say.”

Before you could respond, Ororo’s voice cut through the moment. “Logan! Y/N! Are you two planning to move in back there, or are you going to help me with the rest of these bags?”

Logan straightened, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Guess we’re holdin’ up the whole operation.”

You laughed softly, hugging the blanket to your chest. “Come on, hero. You’ve got groceries to save.”

He smirked at that, grabbing another bag as the two of you made your way toward the mansion. The rest of the evening passed in the usual controlled chaos—students helping unload the van, food being sorted and tucked away, and Logan grumbling about the “damn kids” taking the snacks before they’d even been put away.

Later that night, after dinner and a quiet stretch of grading papers, you found yourself curled up on the couch in the common room. The new blanket was draped over your lap, its soft fabric warm against your skin as you flipped through a physics journal. You didn’t hear Logan enter until the couch dipped slightly beside you.

“Comfortable?” he asked, nodding toward the blanket.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher on your nose. “Very. I think you made a good choice.”

“Damn right I did,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm along the back of the couch. “You looked like a kid in a candy store when you saw it.”

You chuckled, setting the journal aside. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

He snorted, his lips twitching. “Darlin’, I notice a lot more than you think.”

There was something in his tone—a quiet sincerity that made your stomach flutter. You didn’t look away this time, meeting his gaze and finding that familiar intensity there. It was the same look he gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the one that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“What?” you asked softly, unable to help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Logan shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into that signature smirk. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ about how much trouble you are.”

You laughed, leaning against his side. “Pretty sure you’re the one who’s trouble.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice rumbling low as he shifted to drape an arm around your shoulders. “But you don’t seem to mind too much.”

And you didn’t. Not one bit.

---

You had vaguely realized you slipped on one of Logan’s flannels he left in your room, only because it was a little chilly tonight, and your robe was too thick.

You grabbed a lighter and lit one of your candles, one Jean saw you eyeing in the mall when you went out with her a few days ago. And instead of brushing it off like usual, you bought it. The scent was simply ‘blueberries’, but it reminded you of when your grandma made blueberry pancakes on your birthday or special occasions.

Sitting down at your desk, you pulled out your pen and started sorting through the extra credit assignments your students had turned in earlier. You weren’t a workaholic, but you liked to stay organized, and with a quiet evening ahead, it was as good a time as any to get ahead. The soft scent of the blueberry candle filled the room, its glow casting a warm light on the pages. Logan’s flannel draped over your frame was cozy, slightly oversized, and it carried the faintest trace of his scent—woodsmoke and something clean, distinctly him.

You flipped through the first assignment, marking a few notes in the margins. Just as you settled into a rhythm, there was a knock at your door, quick and familiar. Before you could call out, it creaked open, and Logan leaned against the doorframe, his usual smirk in place.

“Figured you’d still be workin’,” he said, his voice low but warm.

You glanced up, adjusting your glasses. “Just finishing up a few things. What’s up?”

He stepped inside, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Not much. Kids’re finally crashin’ for the night. Thought I’d check on you. See if you were gonna hole up in here all night.”

You smiled faintly, gesturing to the pile of papers. “Not all night. Just trying to get these done so I’m not scrambling tomorrow.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the candle, then to the flannel you were wearing. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That my shirt?”

You blinked, looking down as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh. Yeah, sorry—I was cold, and it was just… there.” You grabbed the placket of his flannel and began to slip it off before Logan walked over, placing his hands over yours.

“Who said I wanted ya to take it off?”

His hands rested over yours, warm and firm, halting your motion. For a second, the room seemed still, the faint crackle of the candlewick the only sound breaking the quiet. Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you swallowed, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself.

“I just—” you started, only for Logan to cut you off with a soft smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart. Looks good on ya.” His voice was low, rough in that familiar way that always seemed to settle something restless in you.

You felt your grip loosen on the fabric, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you let the flannel fall back into place. “It’s just… comfortable,” you admitted softly, tugging the hem slightly as though to make a point.

“Damn right it is,” Logan said, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. “Figured it would be, seein’ as it’s mine.”

You bit back a smile, leaning slightly against your desk. “You’re not gonna make me give it back, are you?”

He snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Not a chance. Looks better on you anyway.”

The compliment hung in the air, unspoken but clear in his tone. Your lips twitched upward, the shyness that usually crept in around Logan giving way to a bit of playfulness.

“Careful,” you teased lightly, “if you keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me or something.”

His brows rose, and the smirk widened just enough to send a flicker of warmth through your chest. “Oh, darlin’, you already know I do.”

There was no teasing in his voice this time, and the sudden weight of his words made your breath catch. You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of a paper on your desk, not quite able to meet his gaze.

“I like you too,” you said quietly, the words simple but sincere.

Logan straightened slightly, his arms dropping to his sides as he closed the small gap between you. He didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered just a second longer than necessary, and when he finally spoke, his voice was softer than usual.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I know.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, but before you could say anything else, Logan’s hand dropped to his side, and he nodded toward the pile of papers on your desk. “You finishin’ those tonight?”

You glanced at the stack, then back at him. “I was planning to, but…” You hesitated, gauging his expression. “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

Logan grinned, a flash of teeth that was more mischievous than intimidating. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to take a break. Couch downstairs is lookin’ real empty without you on it.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. “Tempting offer. Let me just finish a couple more, and I’ll meet you down there?”

“Deal.” He turned, heading for the door, but paused in the frame, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t keep me waitin’ too long, darlin’. That blanket of yours isn’t gonna hog itself.”

Your smile lingered long after he disappeared down the hall.

When you finally made it to the common room, Logan was sprawled on the couch, the remote in one hand and a half-empty bottle of beer in the other. He glanced up when he heard you enter, his expression softening as he took you in—glasses perched on your nose, his flannel still hanging loosely around you, the white throw blanket tucked under your arm.

“’Bout time,” he said, shifting to make room for you. “Thought you’d fallen asleep on me up there.”

“Not quite,” you replied, settling beside him and pulling the blanket over your lap. “Just had a few things to wrap up.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, draping his arm along the back of the couch so it brushed lightly against your shoulder. “What’d ya light up there? Smelled like somethin’ sweet when I walked by.”

“Oh, just a candle I got the other day,” you said, adjusting the blanket. “Blueberry. It reminded me of…” You trailed off, hesitating.

Logan tilted his head, his gaze curious but patient. “Of what?”

“Of my grandma,” you admitted quietly. “She used to make blueberry pancakes when I was a kid. It was kind of… our thing.”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his eyes giving way to something warmer. “Sounds nice. Bet she made a hell of a pancake.”

“She did,” you said, smiling faintly at the memory.

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thumb brushed absently against your shoulder, a small, steady movement that felt grounding. You leaned into him slightly, the weight of the day slipping away in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “You doin’ okay?”

The question caught you off guard, but you nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the TV, though you could tell his attention was elsewhere. “Just… you’ve been workin’ hard. Wanted to make sure you’re not overdo—”

You cut him off, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make him pause, his eyes flicking to yours with something close to surprise.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, your voice gentle. “But thank you for asking.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. He didn’t respond right away, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. And as his arm tightened around your shoulders, pulling you closer, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were finally starting to let yourself enjoy this—enjoy him.

---

Movie night was cherished by everyone; loads of popcorn popped in the microwave, an obsessive amount of butter used, and the candy and sweets supply gone in a matter of seconds before the movie even started. The younger students had fought over the best spots on the floor while the older team members claimed the couches. The mansion’s common room, usually buzzing with activity, had settled into a cozy calm as the opening credits rolled.

You sat nestled into Logan’s side, his arm slung lazily around your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you found yourself in this position during a movie night, but it was the first time you didn’t feel the familiar tug of self-consciousness. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, the steady weight of his arm an unspoken reassurance that you didn’t have to overthink it.

He twirled a strand of your hair around one of his fingers absentmindedly, his attention ostensibly on the screen but his actions telling another story. The motion was small, gentle, and oddly soothing. You caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips when he realized you hadn’t pulled away.

“You comfortable, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice low enough not to disturb the others but still carrying that familiar warmth.

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, a soft smile of your own forming. “Very,” you admitted quietly. “Are you?”

He chuckled under his breath, his fingers brushing against your hair again. “Yeah. Got everything I need right here.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t look away, feeling a newfound boldness stirring within you. You leaned a little closer, letting yourself relax into him completely.

The movie played on, a mix of action and humor that had the room alternating between bursts of laughter and quiet concentration. Logan seemed mostly indifferent to the plot, but you could tell he was enjoying the rare downtime as much as you were. The younger kids whispered among themselves, sneaking extra handfuls of popcorn while Jean and Scott shared occasional glances from the other side of the room.

By the time the credits rolled, a few of the younger students had already started to drift off, their sugar highs fading fast. Logan stretched slightly but didn’t move from his spot, his arm still draped around you.

“You about ready to call it a night?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against your shoulder.

You nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, I think so.”

He stood, offering you a hand. You took it without hesitation, and he pulled you up gently. As the others began cleaning up the remnants of snacks and blankets, Logan guided you toward the hall with an ease that felt entirely natural.

“I could’ve walked myself, you know,” you teased lightly as the two of you strolled toward your room.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But where’s the fun in that?”

When you reached your door, he paused, leaning casually against the frame. “You sure you’re good?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You nodded, fiddling with the hem of his flannel that you were still wearing. “I’m good, Logan. Thanks for tonight.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. Then, with a faint grin, he reached out and tapped the side of your glasses lightly. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You smiled, but before he turned to leave, you tugged on his sleeve, the soft fabric catching slightly between your fingers. Logan stopped immediately, his eyes dropping to your hand and then back to your face, curiosity flickering in his gaze.

Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was tentative, shy in a way that made your heart pound, but you didn’t pull away too quickly. When you finally stepped back, his expression was unreadable for a beat—then his lips curved into a slow, unmistakable smirk.

“Well, look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing but with an edge of something deeper. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that made you melt. “You’ve got no idea what you just started.”

You felt a giggle bubble up, and before you could stop yourself, it escaped. “Oh, really?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light despite the heat blooming in your cheeks.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips again, but this time there was nothing tentative about it. His kiss was deeper, slower, and it stole the breath from your lungs. His other hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer as his fingers pressed into the flannel you still wore.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breathing as steady as ever, though his voice was huskier now. “You’re not gettin’ away with a kiss like that without me makin’ it count.”

Your laughter came easier this time, softer, as you felt yourself relax fully into his presence. “I wasn’t trying to get away with anything,” you whispered, your fingers lightly curling into the front of his shirt.

“Good.” His lips brushed against your forehead as he stepped back, his hand lingering at your waist for a moment longer. “’Cause I’d have to come after ya if you did.”

The teasing edge in his voice was enough to make you roll your eyes fondly, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. Logan caught it, of course, and his own smirk softened into something warmer.

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, his hand finally dropping away. “But don’t think I’m not gonna remember this.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” you replied with a laugh, shaking your head at him as you opened the door.

“Night, sweetheart,” he said, stepping back into the hallway but pausing for just a second longer, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he finally turned and walked away.

You closed the door behind you, your heart still fluttering in your chest as you leaned back against it. The soft glow of the blueberry candle flickered on your desk, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a small, private smile still on your lips.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were getting the hang of this whole affection thing after all.

---

The TV flickered softly in the dark room, casting a warm glow as the classic Western played. You had half your attention on a stack of physics homework, pen in hand, scribbling notes in the margins of your students' assignments. Logan sat beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders, a cold beer in his other hand. His body heat, the soft scent of his cologne mingled with leather and something ruggedly him, and the steady rise and fall of his chest were grounding.

“You know, for someone who manipulates time, you’re awfully slow at grading,” he teased, his deep voice rumbling through you.

You nudged his side with your elbow, not looking up from the paper you were marking. “Patience, Logan. It’s a virtue.”

He chuckled. “Not one of mine.”

As the minutes passed, your focus wavered. The warm room, Logan’s comforting presence, and the low hum of the movie were a potent combination. You stifled a yawn, trying to blink away the sleepiness creeping over you. When Logan felt you shift against him, his arm tightened just slightly.

“Hey,” he said, glancing down at you. “Why don’t you call it for the night? You’re about to start drooling on my flannel.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his teasing. “I’m fine. Just a little—” You yawned again, more pronounced this time, betraying your attempt to play it cool.

Logan smirked knowingly. “Sure you are, darlin’. C’mon, just crash here. Not like you haven’t before.”

His casual tone carried an edge of tenderness that made your stomach flutter. You hesitated, though, fiddling with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “I don’t want to intrude. It’s your space.”

Logan raised a brow at you, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “You’re already takin’ up half the bed with your papers and that death grip you’ve got on my flannel. How much more ‘intruding’ could you do?”

You tried to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, setting his beer down and turning to face you more fully. His voice softened. “Stay, Y/N. I sleep better when you’re here anyway.”

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his words, and you gave a small nod. “Okay. But only because you insisted.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly how it went,” he deadpanned with a smirk, reaching to collect the stack of papers in your lap. “Gimme those. You can terrorize the kids tomorrow.”

You let him take the work, watching as he set it on the nightstand before grabbing your glasses and gently slipping them off your face. “There. Now you’ve got no excuses.”

His hands were careful, deliberate, as he folded your glasses and placed them beside the papers. It was such a simple gesture, but it made your heart ache in the best way.

Sliding under the covers, you sighed as Logan turned off the TV, the soft hum of static fading to silence. When he joined you, the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he wasted no time wrapping an arm around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“You’re warm,” you murmured, your voice sleepy as you snuggled into his chest.

“Good,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Means you’re not gonna freeze on me.”

You smiled against him, your fingers curling lightly against his shirt. The quiet settled around you both, comfortable and familiar, as Logan’s hand traced lazy circles on your back. His presence was grounding, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a lullaby.

“Logan?” you murmured, your voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah?” His tone was low, patient.

“Thanks... for everything.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your temple. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t long before sleep claimed you, the feeling of safety and Logan’s steady presence the last thing you remembered.

---

The sunlight seeped into the room through the thin cracks in the blinds, casting soft, warm patterns across the bed. Logan stirred slightly, the shift of your weight against his chest the only thing keeping him from falling back into a deeper sleep. Your head was tucked under his chin, one arm draped lazily across his waist, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against him.

For a moment, he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. This—this quiet, peaceful moment—was rare in his life. It wasn’t just the calm, though. It was you.

His hand, resting lightly on your back, moved of its own accord, tracing absent patterns along the flannel you wore. It was one of his, of course—worn, soft, and just a little too big for you. The sight of you in it had done something to him, a mix of pride and affection that he hadn’t let himself analyze too closely. Not that he needed to; Logan had always been a man who trusted his instincts, and every instinct he had screamed to hold on to you for as long as he could.

He sighed quietly, his thumb brushing over the fabric as his thoughts began to wander. He didn’t sleep much, not deeply, and the nights when you stayed with him were... different. The nightmares didn’t hit as hard. The gaps in his memory didn’t haunt him as much. You didn’t fill the holes left by what he couldn’t remember, but you gave him something better: hope.

Hope. The word sat heavy in his mind. He didn’t dare to speak it aloud, not even to himself. But as his gaze drifted down to you, the way you clung to him in your sleep, his chest tightened. He’d been through this before—five times before. Five versions of you, each so much like the one before, and each one lost too soon.

His jaw clenched at the thought, a protective surge flaring in his chest. He wouldn’t lose you again. He couldn’t. This time... this time had to be different.

Logan let his head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as his fingers continued their unconscious movements on your back. It wasn’t just the hope that you’d stay this time—it was the hope that maybe he could be enough for you. You deserved more than a man like him, a man with bloodied hands and a past he couldn’t even piece together. But you didn’t seem to care about any of that. When you looked at him, there wasn’t judgment in your eyes, only trust.

The thought scared him. It thrilled him, too.

You shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible as your fingers tightened against his side. Logan glanced down, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you bury your face against him, clearly not ready to wake up yet.

“Cuddly little thing,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble. His hand came up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “Should’ve warned me before you moved in and took over my damn bed.”

You didn’t respond, of course, but a soft hum escaped your lips, and Logan swore he felt something crack in his chest. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here, holding you in his arms, waking up to your warmth pressed against him—but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to question it.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke the stillness, and Logan’s gaze snapped to the door, his body instinctively tensing. But the steps moved past without pause, and he relaxed again, his hand coming up to cradle your head against him.

His fingers brushed lightly against your temple, his touch tender despite the strength in his hands. “You’re gonna stick around this time,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your lashes fluttering as your eyes cracked open. Blinking up at him, you gave a sleepy smile, one that made his chest ache in the best way.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.

Logan smirked, his hand coming up to tap the tip of your nose. “Morning, darlin’. Sleep okay?”

You nodded, letting out a content sigh as you snuggled closer to him. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

His smirk softened into something warmer, his gaze lingering on you. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re stayin’ here more often, then.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at him. “Bossy this morning, aren’t we?”

“Always,” he shot back, his tone teasing but his eyes serious. He reached down to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for just a moment. “But only when it comes to you.”

You didn’t reply, but the way you smiled up at him, your hand curling lightly against his chest, told him everything he needed to know.

---

The halls were empty, the muffled hum of distant voices and the occasional scrape of a chair faintly audible through the closed doors. Logan walked beside you, his arm resting comfortably around your shoulders. The warmth of his hand against your upper arm sent a reassuring calm through you, grounding you in the moment.

You weren’t heading anywhere in particular. There was no class for you this period, so it seemed natural to just wander. Logan’s presence had a way of easing the tension you often carried. His steps were steady, his casual confidence contagious.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, glancing down at you, his voice soft enough not to break the stillness of the hall.

“I’m always quiet,” you replied, teasing him as you nudged his side lightly.

“Not with me,” he countered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Around Logan, it was easier to let your guard down.

As you reached the end of the hallway, he slowed, turning to face you. His arm slipped from your shoulders, and his hand found yours instead, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The way he looked at you—steady, unwavering—still had the power to make your heart race.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” he asked, his tone gentler now.

You hesitated, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing serious. Just… glad we have these moments. It feels normal.”

His expression softened, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I get that.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s hand moved to your waist, tugging you closer. The kiss that followed was slow and deliberate, a quiet promise in the way his lips moved against yours. You felt the warmth bloom in your chest, the world narrowing to just the two of you for a fleeting moment.

A faint chuckle broke the silence, making you both pull back abruptly. Turning toward the sound, you saw Charles in his wheelchair, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Apologies for the interruption,” Charles said, his tone light. “I was simply passing through.”

Your cheeks burned as you stepped back slightly, though Logan didn’t move far, his hand still resting at your waist.

“Didn’t think you needed to apologize, Chuck,” Logan said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.

Charles smiled knowingly. “I see the two of you have been enjoying each other’s company.”

You opened your mouth to respond but faltered, unsure what to say. Logan, as always, was quicker.

“Yeah, we have,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Charles.

“Well,” Charles said, his smile growing as he nodded toward you, “carry on, then. But do try not to block the hallway.” With that, he moved past, his wheelchair gliding smoothly down the corridor.

Once he was out of earshot, Logan glanced down at you, his smirk returning. “You’re blushin’, darlin’.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands, being careful of your glasses. “Of course I am! We just got caught—”

“Kissin’ in the hall?” he interrupted, clearly amused. “Not exactly a crime.”

“It’s not about that,” you said, peeking up at him through your fingers. “I just—”

He cut you off with another kiss, his lips brushing against yours in a way that melted your embarrassment. When he pulled back, his smirk was softer, his voice quieter. “Relax. It’s just us.”

You nodded, the tension easing from your shoulders. As he laced his fingers with yours and guided you further down the hall, you couldn’t help but smile. Logan had a way of making everything feel simpler, even when it wasn’t.

And as you walked together, you realized you didn’t mind if people noticed. Being with Logan—his hand in yours, his presence steady at your side—felt right. And that was all that mattered.

---

The radio played softly in the background, some classic rock tune filtering through the medbay as you and Jean worked. The scent of disinfectant lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the faintly metallic tang of medical supplies. Jean stood by one of the cabinets, carefully stacking bandages, while you sorted through a box of various medications and supplies.

“So then,” Jean said, a smile in her voice as she spoke, “he gets back up, brushes himself off like it didn’t just happen, and tries to give me this look—you know the one—like he’s still in control.” She laughed lightly. “Scott can be so smooth until he’s not.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed another vial into the correct drawer. “He tripped over the toolbox again, didn’t he?”

“Third time this week,” Jean confirmed, setting down the stack of gauze she was holding. “It’s like his visor blinds him to anything below knee level.”

“Maybe he needs a warning system,” you joked. “Like a little beep every time he’s about to trip.”

Jean laughed, but it turned into a small, sharp intake of breath. Her hand shot to her temple, and she winced, nearly dropping the bottle she was holding.

“Jean?” You stepped forward, concern pulling at your features. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, waving you off with a tight smile. “It’s just a headache. Probably from not drinking enough water—or Scott stressing me out.”

You didn’t look convinced. “That looked more like a migraine starting than just a little headache.”

She brushed your concern aside, her voice steady but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m fine. Really.” She turned back to the cabinet, her movements deliberate. “Let’s just finish up here.”

You hesitated, but when she didn’t elaborate further, you decided not to push. Instead, you returned to sorting through the supplies, though you kept an eye on her. The quiet between you stretched for a moment, filled only by the sound of bottles and boxes being moved.

“So,” Jean started again, her tone lighter as if trying to steer the conversation back to normal, “how’s Logan?”

Her question caught you off guard. You glanced at her, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. “What do you mean?”

She arched a brow at you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, come on. You two are… spending time together.”

“Spending time together,” you repeated, deadpan.

Jean rolled her eyes and turned to face you, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “Fine. You’re dating. And don’t try to deny it, Y/N; I’ve seen the two of you.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth at the thought of Logan. “We haven’t exactly been keeping it a secret.”

“No, but you’re not shouting it from the rooftops, either.” Her smile softened, and she tilted her head. “You seem happy.”

“I am,” you admitted, unable to keep the smile off your face. “It’s… it’s nice. Being with him feels natural.”

Jean nodded, her expression thoughtful. “He’s good for you, you know. I mean, Logan’s not exactly the easiest guy to figure out, but with you—” She trailed off, her gaze flickering toward the window as if something had distracted her.

“Jean?” you asked gently, watching as her brows furrowed slightly.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I lost my train of thought.”

You frowned, but before you could ask more, she straightened and reached for the clipboard on the counter. “Anyway,” she continued briskly, “we’ve got about half an hour before the next group comes in for their check-ups. Let’s finish this up.”

Her shift in tone was enough to signal that she didn’t want to dwell on whatever had distracted her. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off. You nodded, deciding to let it go for now, and returned to your task.

The quiet settled over the two of you again, broken only by the occasional rustle of supplies. But in the back of your mind, the image of Jean’s wince lingered. You made a mental note to check on her later, even if she insisted she was fine.

---

The steady rhythm of your sewing needle was oddly soothing, the soft swish of thread through fabric blending with the distant murmur of voices from the common room. You sat in the library, a warm lamp casting a golden glow on your hands as you carefully repaired one of the kids' shirts. The hole wasn’t too big, but enough for Theresa to complain about it after snagging it during a game of hide-and-seek.

Logan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched you. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, the faintest of smirks tugging at his lips. You’d known he was there for a few minutes now, but his silence didn’t bother you. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who needed to announce himself. His presence was as steady and grounding as the floor beneath your feet.

“Don’t know why you’re doin’ that,” he finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Kid’s just gonna tear it again.”

You glanced up, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smile. “And I’ll sew it again,” you replied simply, not missing a stitch. “It’s what she asked for.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

Your focus remained on the shirt, though you felt the weight of his gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know the expression on his face—the soft fondness that had crept in over the last few months.

A low tsk broke your concentration, followed by the unmistakable sound of Logan clicking his tongue. You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion, only to find him patting his thigh. The gesture was casual, but the look in his eyes was warm, almost coaxing.

“C’mere,” he said, the gruffness in his tone softened by a hint of amusement.

Your cheeks warmed, and you hesitated, glancing down at the shirt in your hands. “Logan, I’m sewing—”

“You can sew sittin’ here,” he interrupted, patting his thigh again. “Don’t make me ask twice, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, the shyness you thought you’d been shedding creeping back in. But Logan didn’t rush you, his patience as steady as his presence. After a moment, you set the shirt and needle aside, standing up and crossing the room. He didn’t say anything as you approached, just slid his hands to your waist to guide you onto his lap. His arms wrapped around you loosely, holding you steady as you settled in.

“There,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as you reached for the shirt and needle again. “That’s better.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “I can’t believe you wanted me to sit here just so I could keep sewing.”

“Not just for that,” he said, leaning back slightly, his hands resting on your hips. “I like havin’ you close.”

The simplicity of his words made your heart stutter, and you ducked your head, focusing intently on the fabric in your hands. Logan chuckled, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“You’re cute when you get all shy,” he teased, his voice low. “Still tryin’ to figure out why, though. It’s just me.”

“Exactly,” you muttered under your breath, earning another chuckle from him.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, the silence between you comfortable. Logan’s thumb traced absentminded circles against your side, a grounding presence as you worked. You were nearly finished when a voice broke the quiet.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

You startled, nearly pricking your finger as you turned toward the doorway. Jean stood there, arms crossed, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes flicked between you and Logan, her amusement obvious.

Logan didn’t so much as flinch. “Got a problem, Red?”

Jean raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin widening. “Not at all. Just wondering how long you two were planning on hiding in here.”

“Not hidin’,” Logan replied easily, his tone daring her to argue. “Just relaxin’.”

Jean arched a brow, her gaze settling on you. “Relaxing, huh?”

You groaned softly, the warmth in your cheeks betraying you even as you tried to focus on your sewing. “Jean…”

“What?” she said innocently, though her smirk suggested otherwise. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with mild irritation. But the way his hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist betrayed his protective instinct.

Jean rolled her eyes but didn���t push further. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two alone. But don’t forget, we’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.” She glanced at you with a pointed look. “Both of you.”

You nodded, though you didn’t trust your voice to sound steady enough to respond. Jean gave you one last smile before disappearing down the hall, leaving you and Logan alone again.

“Meeting, huh?” Logan murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “Guess we better get movin’ soon.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”

Logan hummed, his arms tightening around you slightly. “Take your time, darlin’. I’m not in any rush.”

And for once, neither were you.

---

It was unusual for you to not feel a weight around you when you slept with Logan, either from his arms around you or his body pressed to your back.

You turned around to face him when you noticed a bead of sweat on his forehead and him mumbling something you couldn’t make out. His brow furrowed in distress, and his body shifted restlessly under the covers, his breaths shallow and uneven. You leaned in closer, brushing a hand against his arm.

“Logan?” you whispered gently, your voice soft enough not to startle him. “Hey, it’s okay.”

He didn’t respond, his mumbling growing louder, words spilling out in broken fragments. “No… stay back… can’t…” His hands gripped the blanket tightly, his knuckles whitening as a low growl rumbled from his chest. The sound sent a shiver through you—it was feral, almost pained.

“Logan,” you said again, louder this time, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Wake up.”

Before you could react, his claws shot out with a sharp snikt, slicing through the fabric of the blanket and grazing your forearm. You flinched as pain flared, a thin line of blood welling up across your skin. But you didn’t pull away.

“Logan!” you said firmly, your free hand cupping his face. “It’s me. Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open, wide and wild, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he even recognized you. His chest heaved as he took in his surroundings, the tension in his body slowly melting as reality settled back into place. His claws retracted with a metallic hiss, and he reached for you almost instinctively.

“Y/N?” His voice was hoarse, guilt already thick in his tone. His gaze dropped to your arm, and he froze. “Shit… I—did I do that?”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, covering the cut with your other hand. The sting was already fading, and honestly, you were more worried about him than the injury. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

His jaw tightened as he sat up, shaking his head. “Don’t give me that. I hurt you.” He reached for your arm, carefully pulling your hand away to inspect the cut. The sight of the blood made his expression darken. “I could’ve done worse.”

“Logan—”

“No,” he cut you off, his grip on your wrist firm but gentle. “This ain’t fine, Y/N. I could’ve—”

You exhaled softly, pressing your free hand to his chest. “Logan. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he did, his eyes meeting yours, guilt flickering beneath the surface. “I’m okay,” you said firmly. “And I can fix this.”

Before he could argue, you focused on the cut, a faint shimmer of energy surrounding your hand as you slowed time around the wound. The blood seemed to retreat, the torn skin stitching itself back together until it was as if the injury had never happened. When you looked back at Logan, his brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he muttered, his voice low. “You shouldn’t have to use your powers just ‘cause I can’t keep my shit together.”

“Logan,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. His palm was rough, his fingers warm as they curled around yours. “You had a nightmare. That’s not your fault.”

He shook his head, his eyes dropping to where your arm had been cut. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve to get hurt ‘cause of me.”

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I’m not scared of you,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling in your chest. “I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

His gaze softened, though the tension in his shoulders remained. “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve hurt people before… people I care about.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning closer until your forehead nearly touched his. “You’re not that man anymore. And even if you slip up, I’m still here. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Stubborn as hell, aren’t ya?”

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” you teased gently, earning a soft chuckle from him.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, the weight of the moment slowly giving way to a comfortable silence. Logan’s hand lingered on your arm, his thumb brushing over the now-healed skin as if to reassure himself it was really gone. His other hand moved to rest on your back, pulling you closer until you were tucked against his chest.

“You should sleep,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“I will,” he said, though his tone made it clear he had no intention of letting go of you anytime soon. “Just stay here.”

“Always,” you whispered, the word barely audible but enough to make him tighten his hold on you.

And for the rest of the night, neither of you let go.

---

After cleaning up the kitchen, Ororo had mentioned that the ice trays needed to be refilled tonight for the next morning.

The water faucet hissed softly as you tested the stream with your fingers again, patiently waiting for it to warm. A stack of five empty plastic ice trays sat next to you on the counter, neatly arranged like a to-do list. You dipped your fingertips under the flow and frowned when it still wasn’t quite hot enough. Behind you, the quiet creak of heavy footsteps announced Logan’s arrival.

“Darlin’,” he drawled, stopping just a few feet away. “What the hell are you doin’?”

“Filling the ice trays,” you answered without looking up. “Ororo mentioned they needed to be ready for the morning.”

“And why,” he said, stepping closer, his tone tinged with amusement, “are you waitin’ for the water to heat up for that?”

You turned, already gearing up for an explanation, and saw Logan leaning against the edge of the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression was bemused, but there was that familiar glint in his eyes—the one that told you he was in no rush to stop poking at you.

“Well,” you started, pushing your glasses up on your nose, “if you use warm water instead of cold, it freezes faster because of the Mpemba effect.”

“The what-now effect?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk growing. “Y’gonna tell me you’ve got some science magic that makes hot water turn to ice quicker?”

“It’s not magic,” you said, exasperated but smiling. “It’s physics. Look, it’s counterintuitive, sure, but the Mpemba effect happens when warmer water loses heat more quickly in certain conditions because—”

He stepped closer, watching your face as you gestured, your explanation picking up steam. “—warmer molecules have a higher average kinetic energy, and that affects convection currents. Plus, there’s evaporation at the surface, which reduces the volume of the water, and—”

Logan let out a soft laugh, cutting you off with a simple, “You’re cute when you ramble, y’know that?”

Your words stumbled, and you blinked at him, thrown by the sudden warmth in his voice. “I—what?”

“I said you’re cute,” he repeated, stepping into your space until the counter pressed against your back. His hand found your waist, fingers brushing lightly through the fabric of your shirt. “Real cute. And too damn smart for your own good.”

Your cheeks heated, and you tried to turn back toward the sink, but his hand slid up to cradle your jaw, keeping your attention on him. “Logan, the water—”

“Let it run,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your cheek. His expression softened, the teasing edge slipping away. “I love you.”

The words landed so easily, so naturally, that for a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. But the look in his eyes—the steadiness, the certainty—left no room for doubt.

“You… love me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah,” he said simply, his hand slipping back to your waist to pull you closer. “I love you, Y/N. Been waitin’ a long time to say it.”

Your heart raced, your mind spinning as you processed his words. He loved you. Logan loved you. You opened your mouth to respond, but all you managed was a faint, breathless laugh, your hands curling against his chest.

“That funny to you?” he teased, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“No, no, it’s not—” You shook your head quickly, a wide grin breaking across your face. “It’s just—Logan, I love you too.”

His grin softened into something warmer, something private, as he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reached up, sliding your hands along his shoulders. “Even if you don’t believe in the Mpemba effect.”

That earned a real laugh from him, low and rough and filled with so much affection it made your chest ache. “Don’t need to believe in it,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours. “I believe in you.”

And when he kissed you, warm and sure and so full of love, you knew you didn’t need anything else.

---

The mansion was unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon, the calm settling like a blanket over the sprawling halls. Most of the students were outside enjoying the sunny day, their laughter floating faintly through the open windows. You’d been curled up in the living room, reading one of your well-loved books on the couch, when Logan strolled in.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, the rough timbre of his voice wrapping around you like a warm coat.

You glanced up from your book, smiling at the sight of him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his hair doing that effortless thing where it looked messy and perfect all at once. “What gave me away?”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a habit, darlin’. You disappear every Sunday around this time. Figured you’d be here, buried in a book.”

“Guilty,” you admitted, shifting to make room for him on the couch.

Logan didn’t sit at first. Instead, he hovered, leaning over you to catch a glimpse of the title in your hands. “Pride and Prejudice?”

You arched a brow. “Surprised?”

“Not really,” he said, his smirk softening into something fond. “Figured you’d be into that kinda thing.”

You gave him a mock glare. “That ‘kinda thing’? It’s a classic.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his arm draping over the back so his hand could rest on your shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring, “I love you.”

Your heart fluttered, the now-familiar warmth of his words spreading through your chest. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your lips twitching into a playful smile. “Again?”

“What?” Logan said, his grin widening. “You expect me to stop sayin’ it?”

“Never,” you teased, leaning into him. “I just don’t think you’ve gone more than an hour without saying it since last week.”

“Can’t help it,” he said simply, his voice low but earnest. “I love you, and I like sayin’ it. You got a problem with that?”

You shook your head, your cheeks warm. “Not even a little.”

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns over your shoulder, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear grounding you.

“Y’know,” he began after a few moments of comfortable silence, “I used to think this kinda thing wasn’t for me.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “What? Lounging on a couch with someone while they read Jane Austen?”

He snorted. “That too. But mostly… this. Bein’ close to someone like this. It’s different with you.”

His words settled over you, weighty and sincere, and you felt your throat tighten. You reached up, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “I’m glad it is,” you whispered.

Logan’s lips curved into a small smile, one reserved just for you. He leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss that was soft but unhurried. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I love you.”

Your laugh was quiet but full of affection. “That makes four times today.”

“Not keepin’ score, are ya?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well,” he said, his tone turning playful, “better get used to it, darlin’. I’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”

You didn’t think you’d ever want him to.

---

You were standing in the kitchen, brushing crumbs off the counter after dinner when Logan walked in. His presence was as effortless as always, but his eyes softened when they landed on you.

“You cleanin’ up again?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Habit,” you replied, tossing the crumbs into the trash. “Stormy made dessert earlier, so I’m just tidying up.”

Logan hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. “Looks clean enough to me.”

“Logan,” you protested lightly, though your smile betrayed you.

“What?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Can’t a guy hug his girl?”

“You’ve been clingy today,” you teased, though you leaned into him, savoring his warmth.

“Clingy, huh?” he rumbled, his voice low. “Thought I was just bein’ affectionate.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yup.” He turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before whispering, “I love you.”

You sighed, not in exasperation but pure fondness. “Five times.”

“Like I said,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smile against your skin, “better get used to it.”

“I’m starting to think I might like it,” you admitted softly, tilting your head to give him better access.

“Good,” Logan said, his voice a quiet promise. “Because I’m not stoppin’. Ever.”

You didn’t think you’d ever want him to.

---

You watched Jean walk down the hall from her classroom to the medbay, almost unaware of her surroundings. You didn’t follow her—didn’t want her to lie to you again about a ‘headache’ or ‘stress.

You let out a soft huff as she went into the elevator. As the door closed, footsteps sounded out from your side, “she’s been off… hasn’t she?”

Scott’s question hung in the air between you, a subtle inquiry wrapped in a shared concern. He glanced at you, a quiet weight behind his gaze, but it was the way he waited for your response that made it clear he was looking for validation.

“You think she’s off too?” you asked softly, not quite meeting his eyes but feeling the truth of it in your own chest. Something was definitely different about Jean lately, though it wasn’t easy to put a finger on. She was always a little intense, but the past few days had felt like a quiet storm was brewing behind her eyes—something just out of reach.

Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. “Yeah. She’s not… herself. And I’ve noticed she’s been acting distant.”

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest as you leaned against the wall. “I’ve seen it too. She’s been more withdrawn, like she’s not really… there, y’know? Like she’s somewhere else in her head.”

Scott let out a breath, his eyes darting to the elevator as if hoping Jean might come back out any minute. “I don’t know, Y/N. It’s like she’s on edge, and I can’t figure out why.”

“I think… I think it’s more than that,” you said, your voice low, uncertain. “She’s been different for a while now. It’s not just today or this week. I think it’s been building up, and I don’t think she even knows what’s going on.”

Scott frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue. “You think it’s something with her powers?”

“I’m not sure,” you said, shifting your weight and glancing down the hall as if expecting Jean to walk out from one of the rooms. “Her abilities have always been intense, but now it feels… unbalanced. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Scott ran his hand through his hair again, a habit of his when he was anxious or frustrated. “I just wish I knew what was going on. I don’t want to keep pushing, but I don’t know how to help her.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, and while you didn’t blame him, you knew there was nothing you could offer in terms of answers. Only… a feeling. A gut instinct telling you something deeper was at play, something neither you nor Scott could quite put together.

“Maybe,” you began, pausing to choose your words carefully, “maybe she needs space. But… if it were me, I’d want someone to ask. I don’t think she’d come to either of us unless we made the first move.”

Scott looked over at you, eyes thoughtful. “You’re right. Maybe I should go talk to her. I just don’t want to push too hard.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of helplessness settle in your chest. “You know her better than anyone. Just be gentle. She’s not the same Jean anymore. Not like she was before.”

Scott glanced down the hall again, his brows knitting together as he thought. “I’ll talk to her. But if it gets worse…”

“I’ll help,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. You didn’t know exactly what was happening with Jean, but you would always do your best to stand by her.

“I’m not sure what to think about it,” Scott admitted. “But I appreciate you being here to talk it through.”

The moment hung for a second longer, both of you lost in the uncertainty of the situation. Then, as though to lighten the mood a little, you added, “You’re a good friend, Scott. You’ll find a way to help her. Just… don’t let her push you away too much. She needs you.”

Scott offered a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

Before either of you could say more, the soft click of the elevator doors opening interrupted the conversation. Jean stepped out, her expression distant but trying to mask it with a smile.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a little too light, a little too forced. She turned to you both, but her eyes lingered just a fraction longer on you. “Everything okay?”

Scott nodded quickly, offering her a polite smile. “Yeah, we were just talking. About the team. How are you feeling?”

Jean’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, and for a heartbeat, you caught a glimpse of the fatigue in her eyes. “Fine,” she replied, but the word didn’t quite sound right. “Just... a little tired.”

“Maybe you should get some rest?” you suggested gently, your voice quiet but full of care. You hated how fragile she looked, how thin the veil of normalcy felt when she was around.

“I will,” Jean said, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Thanks for checking in.”

As she moved past you both, heading back down the hall toward her room, Scott watched her with a pained expression. You could feel the same worry in your chest.

But neither of you said anything as Jean disappeared down the hall. You both knew that sometimes, despite your best intentions, people had to find their own way to deal with what was coming. And with Jean, something was coming. Something none of you were prepared for.

When the silence stretched out, Scott finally broke it. “I’ll talk to her later,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’ve got to try.”

“I know you will,” you said softly, your words quiet but full of reassurance. “And just… be patient. She might not even know what’s going on.”

Scott gave a short nod before walking off down the hall. You stayed behind, lost in your thoughts, wondering what Jean was really hiding. And, more importantly, why it felt like it was all tied up in something far bigger than any of you realized.

But for now, you knew that your role was to be there when she needed you. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

---

The bedroom was quiet except for the faint rustling of the wind outside. Logan leaned back against the headboard, arms loosely crossed, watching you with that familiar, steady gaze that always seemed to settle your nerves and set them alight at the same time.

You sat at the edge of the bed, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. The shy smile tugging at your lips didn’t escape him—nothing ever did. His brow arched slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tilted his head.

“What’s on your mind, darlin’?” The low rumble of his voice carried more warmth than teasing.

You shifted, exhaling softly before crawling over to him, knees sinking into the mattress. His arms uncrossed, hands resting lightly on your hips as you settled yourself across his lap, straddling him. The move caught him off guard; it wasn’t something you did often. You felt his body tense briefly, then relax as his hands instinctively held you steady.

“Just… you.” The words came out soft, almost bashful, but your grin grew when his lips quirked in response.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, fingertips brushing against the fabric of his shirt before tracing their way to his jaw. His stubble was rough beneath your touch, a texture you’d grown to love. Without a word, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

Then another.

And another.

“Hey,” he murmured, a quiet laugh in his tone. “What’s this about?”

You didn’t answer right away, instead brushing your lips along the curve of his jaw, then the corner of his mouth. He turned slightly, trying to catch your lips with his, but you pulled back just enough to avoid it. The playful glint in your eyes made him grin wider.

“I’m repaying you,” you finally said, punctuating the words with another kiss, this time on his nose.

Logan’s hands flexed against your hips. “For what?”

“For saying ‘I love you’ thirty-four times this week,” you teased, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “I counted.”

That earned a genuine laugh from him, deep and unguarded. His head tilted back slightly, the sound rumbling through you. “Thirty-four, huh? Sounds about right.”

You hummed, leaning in again to press another kiss to his cheek, then his temple. “I’m not gonna say it thirty-four times back,” you admitted, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “But… this works, right?”

“It works,” he assured, his voice softer now, a hint of reverence in the way he looked at you. “Keep goin’. I’m not complainin’.”

Your laugh was quieter than his, but just as genuine. You pressed another kiss to his forehead, then to the spot just above his collarbone where his shirt didn’t quite cover his skin. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as you kept at it, the lingering shyness in your actions melting into something more natural, more you.

By the time you finally leaned back to meet his eyes, his expression was a mix of amusement and something much deeper. His thumb brushed a light circle over your hip.

“Thirty-four’s got nothin’ on you, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low but sure.

Your face warmed, but you couldn’t stop the smile. “Good,” you said, leaning in to kiss him one last time, this one slower, more lingering. “It’s supposed to.”

Logan’s hand slid up your back, the other tightening slightly on your hip. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing firmly against yours, not rushed but deliberate, as though savoring the moment. By the time you both pulled back, breath mingling, he was smiling in that way he reserved just for you—a little lopsided, a little boyish, and entirely endearing.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he murmured, voice thick with affection.

You didn’t have time to respond before he shifted beneath you, his hands moving to the backs of your thighs as he rolled you onto your back with ease. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and Logan’s grin widened at the sound. He hovered over you now, the weight of him just enough to feel safe and grounded without being overwhelming. His arms bracketed you, caging you in gently but firmly.

“Now, what’s this about me sayin’ ‘I love you’ too much?” he teased, lowering himself just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. His stubble grazed your skin, and you couldn’t help the breathy laugh that bubbled up.

“I didn’t say ‘too much,’” you countered, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders. “I just said you’ve said it thirty-four times this week. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, his lips twitching with amusement as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Sounds like someone’s keepin’ real close tabs on me.”

“Of course I am,” you replied, your tone softer now. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “You’re worth keeping tabs on.”

That earned you another smile, this one less teasing and more tender. He stared down at you for a long moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your side. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward—it never was. It was full, warm, and unspoken words lingered in the air.

“You know,” Logan began, his voice quieter now, “I don’t just say it to hear myself talk.”

“I know.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jawline. “I like hearing it.”

Logan huffed a small laugh, then dipped his head again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, Y/N,” he said, low and steady, the words carrying all the weight they always did.

You smiled, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his face. “I love you too, Logan.”

At that, he sighed—a deep, contented sound that rumbled through his chest. Then, slowly, he shifted again, resting his weight beside you rather than on top of you. His head found its place against your stomach, his arms wrapping around your waist as though he needed to anchor himself to you. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, and you instinctively combed your fingers through his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp.

Logan closed his eyes, the tension that always seemed to linger in his shoulders finally melting away. “Y’know,” he muttered after a moment, “this might be my favorite spot in the whole world.”

You felt your cheeks warm again, but the smile that tugged at your lips was unstoppable. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it’s yours,” he said simply, his voice muffled slightly against the fabric of your sweater. “And I figure if I’m here, then I’m good.”

Your chest tightened at the simplicity of his words, at how effortlessly he could turn you into a puddle. For someone who carried so much weight on his shoulders, Logan always had a way of making you feel light, cherished, even when you didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re definitely good,” you murmured, your hand still carding through his hair. “Better than good.”

“Don’t push your luck, sweetheart,” he said, but the teasing tone in his voice made you laugh softly.

The two of you stayed like that for a while—his head on your stomach, your hands in his hair, and the world outside your bedroom fading into irrelevance. Eventually, Logan let out another contented sigh.

“Thirty-five,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You frowned slightly, glancing down at him. “Thirty-five what?”

“‘I love you,’” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he tilted his head to look at you. “Said it thirty-five times now.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “And counting,” you teased.

“Damn right,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He nestled closer against you, his arms tightening around your waist. “Gonna say it every chance I get.”

As the wind continued its soft rustle outside, you couldn’t help but think that, in this moment, everything felt exactly as it should.

next chapter is the last stand!!